Seek First To Understand
by EarlyMorningWriter
Summary: The crew of the Nathan James has weathered numerous setbacks since their return from the Arctic but each time they have managed to come together as one force for good. Now, each member has a different role to play as they split into teams to tackle several goals. Can they succeed with a spy in their midst? (Standalone part 6 of the Seven Habits series).
1. Chapter 1

**Would?, Alice in Chains**

Fall, 2013

Lieutenant Wendel knocked softly on his office door. "Admiral? You have a call on line 1."

Damn. He'd hoped to have an hour or two by himself after that disastrous call with his ex-wife. They had been divorced almost twenty years but she still could be a pain in the neck when she wanted to be. This time she was calling for a checkup on their son. Apparently his service dog had died and she was concerned he would get depressed. "I am sure he knows better than to get too attached to an animal." He reassured her that the kid was ok because he knew better than to give in to Connie's hysteria but he would check up on the boy anyway. "If it's Connie again, tell her I will call Vince first thing in the morning."

"No Sir, it's from the secure network. Logged in as 89412CN."

Alarm bells went off in his head. That would be Claire. She'd been the first handler he'd had on his team and she'd always been the best as well. If she was calling, it was something serious. "Put her through." As he waited for the connection he pulled up her most recent status report. She currently had three agents in Israel-Palestine, two in Afghanistan, two in Cuba, and two in China. That was the heaviest load of all his handlers but she seemed to manage it effortlessly. "Claire! What a surprise. I hope all is well."

"Cut the crap Dan. You know I wouldn't call if it wasn't serious." Derision colored her voice. She had been pretty pissed at him ever since he sent Tex to Cuba. But they needed someone on the inside with Amir and Tex was the best guy for the job. It wasn't like he could just manufacture guys with his skills out of thin air.

"Fine, what is this about?"

"Agent KS87EF has popped up, alive and pissed. Walked into the embassy in Kabul yesterday and he wants out."

Holy Shit! They had written him off as dead almost a year ago. "Are we sure it's him?"

"Would I be calling you if I wasn't sure? Yeah, we got positive ID by the military liaison officer. Colonel Kimble knew him before, so we can believe him."

"What's his story?"

"His story matches what we know. We figured he'd been killed and disposed of separately since he was the highest ranking person but I guess we were wrong. Says he woke up in a cave full of bodies, crawled out, left his uniform, but took his weapon. It matches the list of what what was found in the cave. Says he was nursed back to health by a Hazara family. Had a chance to get back to Kabul and took it. He's injured and wants to go home."

"Is that where he is now?"

She sighed. "Seriously, you should know my guys well enough to know they won't be found unless they want to be. He told Kimble he'd be back tomorrow and he wants ID and a place ticket ready and waiting."

Holy Toledo! KS87EF was a legacy. Between the military family, years of training, and the success he'd had, plus the fact that he didn't mind long term assignments meant he could take the time to build the kind of relationship that net real information when needed. Dan had been making plans to promote him to the management side of things when Claire was ready to retire from the field. At least he had until they thought the guy had been killed. "How much does he know about what happened? He and the Captain of that unit were close. I have a hard time believing he doesn't want revenge. Do we know for sure that he wasn't in on it? What has he been doing for nearly a year?" Questions tumbled out of his mouth as the possible advantages of having a guy that deep with the locals tempted him.

"Told Kimble he was goat herding. Refused to say where the village was. But sir, you can't be thinking that he turned on us. He was rock solid, all-American all the way."

He shook his head. There was really no way to know. "So why now? Why does he suddenly want to come home?"

Claire sighed. "You're not going to believe this. Says he's going home to the people he loves."

"He's homesick?" He thought of his own cozy bungalow a few miles away and glanced at the clock. He never used to worry if work kept him late but his fifth wife, Chantal, was a stickler for mealtime. If he wasn't home by six he'd have to make his own dinner or drive back to the commissary. But KS87EF had never shown any indication that he even wanted to be in the US, much less with his family. Then again, there had been the surprising finding that he'd willed all his benefits to a daughter no one even knew he had.

"Guess so. Happens to everyone once in a while." She snorted. "Well most everyone."

They could use this to their advantage. "We're still trying to figure out who caused the attack on his unit and the men they were training. We lost 14 good men that day and the Afghan forces lost twice that. We can't let him leave, go home, and become a damn dairy farmer in Kansas for crying out loud. What good would that do anyone? Whether he was involved or not doesn't matter, any info he can get us about how those men infiltrated the training group is invaluable."

"Well sir he did give us that. A name at least. He said he witnessed a translator named Qurban kill Captain Purcells. I have confirmed that this Qurban fellow is a Pakistani national who was present at two previous massacres but managed to come out smelling like roses. One was a car bombing, the other was an ambush with an RPG. Both events were in the same general area. We know they are infiltrating the Afghan forces to get the info they need to select trade routes over the border that won't get raided. But people on the inside have to be helping them. There would be no opium trade without a buyer. Sir, with a name and place, I can get a team on it right away.

"This is too delicate for a bunch of macho shoot 'em up guys. KS has the perfect cover. We'd be foolish to use someone with less experience or ability to blend."

"We could pull Tex…"

"No! His work with Amir is too valuable."

"Then get Gurty in for one last job. How many times has he come out of retirement?"

"Says he won't leave his new marina business, even for me. We just need to find the right incentive for KS87EF and he'll cave. They all do eventually."

She was silent for a long moment. With Claire that meant one of two things. She was either going to tell him how wrong he was, or she was going to tell him how stupid he was. Either way, he wasn't fool enough to think that her not arguing was a good thing."

"Well that's the thing. Kimble had the foresight for once to see what an amazing opportunity was in front of him and he tried, but the price is pretty steep. KS wants college tuition for for all of Purcell's kids. There's six of them. He's coming into the embassy again tomorrow and Kimble needs to know what to tell him."

He didn't even hesitate. "Done." And he breathed a sigh of relief. Money was easy. It was the guys who asked for illegal things that were hard to deal with. "Tell Kimble he can make the deal. Get him the support and supplies he needs, set up a communication plan, and then let's catch this translator in the act." He had one misgiving though. "And Claire, tell Kimble that if he doesn't take the deal, not to let him walk out of there. I have no doubt he could disappear into thin air again the minute we turn our backs."

"Alright. Consider it done." She hung up. Once upon a time she would have chatted with him after their business was concluded but that had stopped two years ago. He supposed he could only blame himself. After all, She had outright asked him not to send Tex to Cuba. It was just about the only thing she'd ever asked for in a nearly thirty year career. What was it with some people that they couldn't see that the jobs they were doing had consequences worth putting relationships on hold? Besides, like he'd told her then, Tex only had one get out of jail free card and he'd already used it. It sounded like Amir was getting too far distanced from the field to be much use anymore. Tex would be home soon. Maybe then she would forgive him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Outside, Staind**

March 2015

Dan woke with a start, almost toppling out of his swiveling chair. Not one titter marred the silence, every sailor present knew the gravity of the situation. Either that or they knew Meylan would come down hard on anyone mocking an admiral. Trust a mediocre captain to be an absolute stickler on rules and authority. For a moment he was disoriented by the red lights of the bridg and memories of a time before satellites and GPS, when protecting night vision was critical for the ship's navigation. But this was a modern Arleigh-Burke class ship and the red lights were mostly there just to reduce the chance of the ship being seen by other less equipped Navies. He scratched his nearly bald head. Pretty pointless now that the Red Flu was raging worldwide.

Speak of the devil, a polite cough revealed the presence of the ship's captain. "Excuse me Sir. You said to alert you when we had transmitted your message."

"Have we received anything back?"

"Yes, Lieutenant Wendel is waiting for you in the p-way." The other man glanced toward the portal that led to the corridor separating the bridge and the CIC. Dan knew he was resented here, on the ship the other man considered his domain. One of these days he was going to stop playing the distinguished visitor and give that man the set down that he deserved. He'd been commanding ships like this since before Meylan was even a twinkle in his parents' eyes.

"Very well." He ceded the Captain's chair and shuffled to the portal, wishing he could move as smoothly and effortlessly as he had as a young man. His mind might be in tip top shape but these days his body constantly reminded him that he was well past his physical prime.

"Admiral Green, I have your secure link ready." Lieutenant Wendel was properly deferential and he gestured toward the quarters that had doubled as Dan's office for the last eight months. He'd come to rely on the Lieutenant in the absence of his own staff. The thought of Commanders Kloopman and Lions, who had died in the struggle to keep the fleet out of foreign hands, pained him. They were all dead so there was no use comparing now to then. This world was a new place.

He took his seat and waved Wendel to the door. "I should only be a minute. After the report from El Paso last week, I know I only have two agents still in play, at the most."

As soon as the door shut his pulled a slip of paper from the lining of his cap. Fifty years in the Navy had taught him many things, but memorizing passwords wasn't one of them. "Well let's see who has survived the last three days." He muttered to himself as he pecked out the commands to open the message protocol. He nearly fell out of his chair for the second time that night when he saw four messages waiting. The fact that one came from an unknown user gave his heart an extra skip that was probably not healthy at his age. He closed his eyes and breathed deep. No matter what, the other three were likely still alive and that was a wonderful thing. He never failed to say a prayer of thanks every time there was a successful satellite link and he could confirm that they were ok.

With a quick eenie-meenie-minnie-moe he decided to spare his heart. He opened the message from the man he considered his best operator, even though it was the most recent. "Hidalgo gaining power through water rights and vaccination programs. Fort Bliss compromised. Maintaining cover." As if he'd had any doubt the man would stay right in the thick of things. That was why he'd gotten as far as he had in his work as a Ranger in Afghanistan.

The second message he opened was from a much older former Ranger. His update on Michener's location revealed no changes over the past month. Thank goodness. After the new president had undertaken the foolhardy trip around the Midwest he'd wondered if they were trying to let him get himself killed. Although he'd spent most of his career in the Pacific fleet, he knew enough about Chandler to think he ought to trust he judgement in the matter. Still there were moments when he wondered if Michener was up to the tasks of President. The agent had added a note that Chandler was going to begin an offensive against the MCF but no details about how. The man was a brilliant strategist and Dan couldn't risk any exchanges about plans being intercepted so he supposed he'd have to trust Chandler on that too.

He saved the unknown message for last and instead opened the one from the man he'd once considered his closest professional friend and best operator. That damn wily old bastard had left him hanging for a month, disappearing after telling him he was heading to St. Louis. Dan was confident that Vince would never turn, but when he stopped checking in, he'd been nervous that the foreign operators that had been dogging his heels had finally found him. The update was terse and didn't tell him what he really wanted to know.

He leaned back and closed his eyes, reliving memories of other nights on other ships. One particular night had haunted him for close to thirty years now. A team had come back from Kuwait, victorious after a night scouting targets. That was back when officers passing around a flask or two didn't get so much side-eye as it did now. He'd found Vince sitting up on the weather deck, over looking the crowd of celebrating sailors. "I don't know how you ship guys do these long deployments." He paused to take a long draught on the very flask he'd given Dan to commemorate his advancement to rear admiral a few years earlier. "Don't you miss normal life? I for one can't wait to get home to see Charlene and the kids, and Danny and Connie too." This had been normal life to him as long as he could remember. When he had to stay ashore he had…complications…to navigate. But he knew how much Vince loved his everyday life. He worked hard when he had to but when he was home he was all family, all the time. He was pretty sure it had been the only time he lied to his friend.

"Of course I miss it. But if I don't do this job, who will? I'm making the world more secure for them. I know how to get it done. They understand." His third wife had definitely not understood…to the tune of half of everything he owned and a very expensive boarding school for his son to boot.

Dan sighed. Places like this had been his home for such a very long time that the change from normal life to the post-apocalyptic state had hardly registered. If everyone on this ship was as old and jaded as he was he might have been content to continue with their operations as is. They had settled into the rhythm of ping ponging back and forth between Alaska and Hawaii, under the guise of manning the supply stations at either end. But these young men and women deserved a chance to go home, find their families, and rebuild their lives. He thought of the small case locked in his office. It had been entrusted to him by the President at the start of the outbreak and seven Presidents later it was still his priority. Once a congress was in place he could finally reveal the ship and discharge that duty. Then, fingers crossed another crisis wasn't imminent, he planned to finally retire.

He opened the last message, the one from an unknown operator. Once he opened it he was shocked to see the identification code of an operator he had assumed was dead almost seven months ago. But then again, she was always full of surprises. "ZAPS627NI cured. With China. Continue previous orders?" He pondered her words for a minute. With China? Why not in China? What the hell did that mean? He'd think on it and send his replies with the next satellite pass.

"Wendel?" He was old enough he could holler for his assistant without guilt but the way the younger man swung the door open, trying to mask the annoyance at being summoned with a carefully crafted neutrality made him think of his son. He was someone else's lieutenant too after all. He nodded toward the visitor's chair beside his desk. "Take a seat. We've got plans to make."


	3. Chapter 3

**The Devil Went Down to Georgia, Charlie Daniels Band**

Carleton eyed the closed door of Chandler's courthouse office with disappointment. He'd been hoping to casually drop by and talk with Chandler between PT and the start of his day. He checked his watch, 0745. He needed to make his equipment request by 0900 and he didn't feel like he could do it until they'd finalized personnel. His team was scheduled to depart on the Rio Grande in two days and he really didn't want to leave this matter to the last minute.

"Fuck it." He pulled out his phone and began to type an email to Chandler. He had debated the issue all night with no good resolution and he needed to just put his foot down, make an objective argument, and not worry about whether people thought he was being a jerk. He read over the message. Chandler hated doing business by email but since he was busy preparing to join the Nathan James in Pascagoula where Garnett and Slattery were counting down the days until she was ready to sail again, he would have to take what he could get. He had just hit send when Chandler rounded the corner with a loud ding from his hip pocket.

"Ah, Lieutenant. I can only assume that annoying chime was you sending me a message whining about the team assignments."

Whining? He didn't whine! "No sir. Well, the email was from me but it wasn't that. Well actually it was but not whining, just looking for advice Sir." As he babbled the Captain's right brow crept higher and higher.

"Right. So you're happy with everything then? Slattery and I went back and forth about putting Granderson on the bridge of the Rio Grande over you. You both did a great job as we brought the ships upstream and it's not meant to be a slight against you. Rather, we think you are better prepared for a lengthy field operation than she is."

"To be honest, I had figured as much Sir. You know I have the utmost respect for Lieutenant Granderson and I think the role will suit her well."

"Then what is this about?"

As Chandler unlocked his office he debated how to answer. It was always best to be straight and to the point with junior officers and he supposed that was the best tack here too. "Sir, I have some reservations about the personnel assigned to my team. To be frank, I'd like to switch out Diaz for someone else."

Chandler just ignored his request and waved him into the outer office. "You came right over from PT right? want some coffee to warm up?"

A little thrown off guard by the polite question he accepted the mug Chandler held out. "Sure. Thanks Sir."

Chandler added powdered creamer mix to his own and stirred with a tiny red straw, all the while watching Burk with one eye. "Let's sit down, shall we." He pointed to the guest chair in his office and Carleton sank into it, becoming more wary by the second. Chandler went around to the backside of his desk and slipped into his own chair. He drew a cautious sip of the hot brew and then set the mug at the edge of the desk with a sigh. "Slattery assessed the tasks for your team and decided one officer to lead three enlisted would be sufficient escort for one man, especially when the vice president is still relatively unknown and will not be advertising his presence. Let us not forget that Findley is a veteran himself and quite capable of aiding in his own defense."

Chandler steepled his hands and stared him down and Burk immediately knew that he was not going to make headway here. "I think a team of four is fine Sir. I'm not questioning that. And I like Diaz, I really do. But he's so young and he doesn't have much in the way of skills. We really don't know if he can handle this kind of thing. I mean, he did great with Green but that could be completely a fluke." He hoped his protest sounded as reasoned and honest to Chandler as it did to himself. Chandler nodded along as if he agreed and Carleton felt encouraged to elaborate. "With such a small team we need every member to bring something. Wolf, well he's got his experience. Miller is a great follower and he's got balls. But Diaz, he hasn't even really been through basic yet!" He winced as he recognized a slightly whiny note.

The outer door to the office whooshed open and the lights suddenly flicked on. "Captain Chandler, is that you?" Kara's slightly breathless voice echoed of the high ceilings of the old courthouse rooms.

"Yes I'm back here. Can you shut the door a second?"

Kara's shoes clicked across the polished wooden floors and then the door shut muffling her. "Yes sir. I'll be preparing for our meeting with Mayor Oliver."

Chandler looked toward the door a moment and then let his chair fall backward so his feet swung casually off the floor. "Burk, do you know why I assigned Commander Green to work as the liaison between my office and the President even though she has no training in this kind of job?"

He wondered where this was leading. "She needed a job off the ship and she's one of the highest ranking people who isn't critical somewhere else?"

Chandler shook his head ruefully. "No. Those things are true but they aren't the important things. If it was all about rank then Slattery would be doing her job. And if it was about training, Master Chief would. But in this case I needed someone with specific skills, skills that Kara has and they don't. Slattery is a fantastic decision maker but he's no diplomat. Master Chief connects with people and gets them to open up about their side, but he's not good thinking on his feet. Kara has all those skills." He let his chair fall forward on the desk. "Slattery divided up the trip teams the same way. He gave you three guys with complimentary skills that fill your needs. Yeah, Diaz hasn't been to basic. So what? He speaks Spanish and he takes orders well. With Cruz going with Green, he was the best option to go with you."

Those things were true but he still would rather have Cruz on his team. "But Cruz and I have worked together for years. Green's the one whose team needs new guys, not mine. Why break up what's been working?" As soon as he said it, Chandler's lips pressed together in a firm line as if he'd just gone wrong in exactly the way Chandler would have predicted.

"But it's not just about your team. Green needs Cruz. He's going into an area with tons of military people who will pick up on the fact that Diaz is too young and too inexperienced in a heartbeat while Cruz will immediately blend in. Plus, Green is taking Simpson-Slattery and his corporal because they are Army but they are relatively young guys. He needs Cruz for the experience too. And Diaz brings more than the potential to translate if you run into the MCF. He was here during the outbreaks and he's good at connecting with people. And let's face it, neither you or Miller is good at that and with his accent Wolf stands out too much."

Shit, he hadn't thought about that. But still, he didn't want to babysit another wet behind the ears guy. Why did Chandler keep sticking him with newbies? It wasn't like he'd done such a great job with Miller after all. Anyone could see that Miller idolized Taylor when he'd barely tolerated Carleton. As he struggled to come up with a decent answer Chandler picked up his coffee and took a deep sip. When he still said nothing he sighed and set it back down again. "I'm going to be honest with you Burk. You are an excellent officer, on and off the books. And I know that I can send you into the field without your ego or your desire to be a hero getting in the way. We need more guys like that. Sure, we need the risk takers like Green and the guys who have seen it all like Wolf too, but when it comes down to it, I am short on guys as solid as a rock as you are."

"Thank you?" He wasn't sure how to take that. Was Chandler saying he was just ho-hum? Why had he been busting his ass for years then?

"I mean this in a good way Burk. We're going to have two teams deep in the field and with you, I don't have to worry. It's going to get done efficiently and with no drama. And on top of that, if Miller and Diaz pick up a few of your traits along the way, that's good for us all in the long run." He supposed he could see what Chandler was saying.

"I do see your point sir." He felt a little foolish now but it wasn't the first time and it probably wouldn't be the last. "And thank you for talking me through it."

Chandler smiled warmly. "Anytime. Now while we're here. I'd like to talk to you a little bit about the vice president if you don't mind."


	4. Chapter 4 - Queen Jane Approximately

**Queen Jane Approximately, Bob Dylan**

Alisha leaned over her small desk aboard the USS Rio Grande and gulped back tears. That had been the third time a barge had been found drifting with all their crew murdered since they made it north of Omaha. This case had been particularly gruesome because the bodies had sat on the fore deck in yesterday's unseasonably warm heat. It wasn't the first time she had cried in her office since taking command of the ship a week ago, but it was certainly the first time she'd done it while making her report to Chandler. And the fact that Burk scowled at her from the other side of the desk made it even worse. They had been friends ever since he appointed her as his successor in the Midshipman Black Studies Club back at school. But ever since she and Val had begun letting it be known in public that they were an item, he'd thrown her the cold shoulder. She heaved a sigh. Right now she could really use a friend but it felt like Kara, on the other end of the call, was as much as she would get.

"I don't understand these killings at all. The ship manifest listed six crew. All are dead or missing. And the cargo was gone. This was a raft of eight barges carrying last year's silage so it should have had a pretty large tug attached but it was just drifting free. We towed it into Nebraska City and they said they haven't seen a barge come downstream in weeks."

She could hear Kara anxiously tapping her pen as she made her report. "Did anyone report anything similar when you were in the Omaha area?" They had been stopping every few days so Burk's team could make incursions away from the river but in Omaha they had stayed three days and spread the word about Michener's congress in June. "No, It wasn't until we got near Omaha that we started seeing these drifting barges. The first one was at the mouth of the Platte and we thought it must be the Red Flu but now we've seen two more and we haven't even made it to Council Bluffs yet."

"Pull up a map Val." Kara ordered. Oh Jeez. If Val was there she'd better get it together. What would she think of a woman who was freaked out by a few drifting barges. She was supposed to be the tough one.

Chandler drew a deep breath. "I don't know what's going on. Burk reported that there had been some MCF contact with people in Lincoln. His team is going to try to figure out what's going on as they spread the cure west." She heard him snap his fingers. "Is the Platte navigable?"

"No, I don't think so." She really had no idea. They were crawling along because navigating the Missouri when their ship was deeper than the official navigation channel was risky enough. She had spent hours pouring over nav charts with Nishioka, wishing they had Gator instead, but she couldn't recall seeing any notes about the Platte.

"It's not, not really anyway." Kara sounded far more confident in her answer. "Have you ever heard the expression to thick to drink but too thin to plow? That's what the early frontiersmen said about the Platte. It might have been Louis and Clarke who said it was a mile wide but six inches deep. Basically it's more like a swamp than a clear channel. That's why the Oregon Trail was a wagon train."

Alisha breathed a little easier. Kara would figure this out. She knew this part of the country better than anyone. "How do you know this stuff?" Val asked. Burk rolled his eyes.

"Duck hunting with my dad. Plus my girl scout troop did a week long Pony Express themed camp when I was in eighth grade."

"You are such a nerd." The bark of laughter that escaped Val was probably unintentional but it did relieve some of her tension.

Burk muttered under his breath, "Imagine Val calling someone else a nerd."

"But seriously," Kara was in problem solving mode now. "Did you see any free floating barges south of the confluence with the Platte?"

She thought back. "No, but there's not much there. That whole stretch down to Nebraska City was just farmland and dirt roads. I think we only saw two bridges the whole time and they were.."

"Trains!" Kara finished. "They were train bridges right? Val pull up the map of the mouth of the Platte."

"There!" Chandler exclaimed. "Barely a quarter mile in there is a train bridge."

Burk sat up straighter and asked, "You think someone is stealing all the goods from the barges and putting it on trains? But why? Most of those were barges of grain. That's like the basis of the economy for the whole upper midwest. There's plenty for the cows here and the rest gets shipped out to other countries."

Val's disembodied voice came over the line and despite the dire circumstances something in Alicia calmed. She could picture her in Chandler's office, a picture of carefully curated chaos in contrast to Kara and Tom's perfect adherence to uniforms and standards. "Not just other countries, that's how they feed animals all up and down the coasts. That grain is the basis of dairies in New England and pigs in the mid-atlantic."

"That's how you finish beef in Montana, Wyoming, California, Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, Mexico." Chandler finished for Kara. "Michener needs to know about this right away. When he was in Canada he and William hatched a plan to stop the MCF's beef industry by not trading with them. But it sounds like they have found a way around it. Lieutenants, continue on to Sioux City but stay alert. If the MCF is trying to feed an army with stolen goods, we'll figure out a way to stop them soon."


	5. Chapter 5 - Prairie Fire

**Prairie Fire, The Long Ryders **

Alisha stood aghast on the bridge of the littoral ship Rio Grande as the helmsman adjusted the thrust to come alongside the most upstream dock. The only sound was the splish-splash of the wiper blades cutting away at the slushy rain that had pelted the windows all day. The raw gray March weather perfectly reflected her mood. A few minutes ago she'd let the lively conversation of the bridge crew, which had been jokingly taking bets about who in their team should be allowed R&R tonight, soothe her and remind her that there was still plenty of good in the world. But when they had rounded the final bend and the wharf area had come into view all conversation had stopped. At first people had eyed the strange mounds behind the docks with curiosity, trying to get a view with field glasses. But as they drew closer and were finally able to make out what they were seeing more clearly, the horror of the situation dawned on them all. They had been able to smell smoke for several river miles but she'd never expected this. Bodies were stacked in alternating layers with old shipping pallets in towers fifteen feet high. Dark ash piles, some still smoldering despite the freezing drizzle, indicated the tower's purpose. Alisha shuddered suddenly losing all the confidence she had built back up after yesterday's encounter with the barges.

"Ma'am?" The OOD stood by the side of the helmsmen, one brow raised as he awaited Alisha's command.

The crew topside would need to disembark to tie them up in a moment if she didn't change her orders. She didn't have time to relive all the things that had gone wrong in Baltimore before making her decision. "Take us out." She turned toward her navigator, wishing that Mejia had been able to sail with the Rio Grande instead of the Nathan James. "Where can we anchor and come in with a rhib?"

The bridge crew snapped out of their stunned silence and made the changes. She hoped no one noticed the beads of cold sweat that had sprung on her forehead. She glanced out the front windows again but yes, that was definitely a grisly human hand hanging down between two layers of rough wood.

A few people in the wharf area had noticed them. A man in a dingy yellow fireman's coat, who had been minding a pile of glowing hot ashes with a shovel, turned and ran toward the steep edge, lined with concrete riprap, waving his arms as if to signal them to stop. Other people came running. She couldn't hear their shouts but she could see the anguish in their faces. She told herself it didn't look like Baltimore but the chill thought of disembarking and walking between those piles of bodies had her sticking firm to her decision. She picked up the ship's PA microphone. "Attention all crew. We have reached our final northbound destination of Sioux City." Through the open portal to the p-way she heard a small cheer. "At this time I would like the expeditionary team to meet in my office. Bosun, prepare the rhib for departure in one hour. Vaccination team you are on standby. Everyone else is to remain in their scheduled duty until instructed of leave status." She hung up the microphone and nodded to Nishioka as she headed for the p-way. "Lieutenant, you have the bridge. Please alert me when we have anchored."

Wolf snapped to attention when she approached her office. Burk nodded. "Ma'am." The Vice President opened the door and immediately claimed her only visitor's chair.

Her desk hung from the wall of her small quarters like a kitchen peninsula and she was forced to slide between the Vice President and the wall to get around to her own chair on the other side. "And Diaz and Miller?"

Burk sighed. "I saw the bodies and I sent those two to prep more weapons. I'll fill them in when we're done here." She nodded, relieved that he had an idea how to adjust the plan because she certainly didn't.

She steered her gaze away from her desk planner, which proclaimed in the carefree swirling doodles of last year that today was her birthday. "Alright guys, I think the five of us will go ashore first and find out what the deal is. Then if it's safe, we'll call Nishioka to bring the ship back down to the docks. Findley, I think you should wait until then, and even though we'll get treatment started a little later than planned, the volunteers are still in the seven day window to spread the contagious cure."

Wolf nodded. Findley grimaced but looked to Burk. She shouldn't be surprised. He might think he was being subtle, but she'd definitely picked up ont he fact that he didn't think much of her leadership. Burk sighed. "I suppose you're going to tell me that our first objective is to find out what the heck is going on with the pyrotechnics. I always get the shit jobs."

This brought a smile to Wolf's lips. "Oh come on mate, everyone loves a good campfire." The rest of them groaned in agony. She even caught herself laughing too. If everything checked out OK, these guys would be leaving the ship tomorrow to head west. She was going to miss having Wolf and Burk here.

"Too soon dude. Too soon." Burk laughed as he rolled his eyes. "Let's at least find out why they have bodies piled up on the docks before we start making jokes about it."

As they crossed the icy water in the rhib, Alisha huddled into her parka. It wasn't only the icy spray causing the chill deep within. Aside from the danger they might be facing, did she have it in her to handle another Amy Granderson situation? Sioux City might not be nearly as important or large as Baltimore, but that didn't mean the Red Flu couldn't have twisted society here. She directed Ray to take them into a small marina upstream of the shipping wharf. Findley had pulled rank and insisted on accompanying them as he had in other places. "Are you scared by a few bodies Granderson? They're dead, they can't hurt you anymore." His voice had boomed across her bridge drawing stares. "I knew your mother you know. I really thought you'd be made of sterner stuff". She scowled at his back, hunched against the cold, as they slowed to navigate the narrow spaces between buoys. The acrid smell of smoke mixed with the scent of fish guts and damp earth fit her mood perfectly, miserable and rotten.

On this side of the city a park ran along the waterfront. Tents and campers were dispersed in small groupings and far more people than she expected huddled together in the miserable weather where burn barrels were set out at regular intervals under a long string of blue tarp shelters. Burk's face was fixed in a stoic mask as he looked away from the shore to Miller and Ray. "Ray, you'll stay here with the boat. At the first sign of trouble, gunshots, shouting, rioting, or whatever you take it far enough offshore to stay out of range of the average citizen and sit tight. Do not return fire unless absolutely necessary." Ray nodded but looked toward the shore with a kind of grim longing. She understood the debate. The kid had told her quite forthrightly when the other day that he was up for any job she needed and hadn't joining the Navy just for the pay. He wanted to be a good team player. But who volunteered to go walking through a makeshift crematorium? "Wolf, you keep your eyes on the crowd and the conditions. Miller, you and I will go in close with Findley and Granderson. We keep weapons out of sight as much as possible." She met Burk's eyes as she gave her own curt nod of approval. He might not know it, but taking the lead where he could helped her feel more confident as well.

Miller wrinkled his pale nose as he scanned the shoreline. "Yes Sir. I've been here a few times before but I don't remember this park being so creepy."

As Ray gently beached their small craft on a crumbling boat ramp heads turned their way, but few of the people ventured into the rain. Wolf exited first and helped her over the slippery edge. Then he took off down the path toward the commercial wharf at a light jog. The gravel of the boat ramp was crusted with a thin coat of ice that crackled with each step and Findley slipped once or twice as he shuffled up the ramp forcing Burk and Miller to hustle to flank him. She sighed and took a position to the rear, trying to pick out some kind of leader from the crowd. "I don't see anyone who looks in charge. Let's circle toward the commercial wharf and see if we can find someone official." She spoke low under her breath as she turned them to the left. As they walked she realized what made the park look so eerie; almost all the trees were cut off about four feet above the ground.

Miller gestured toward the low skyline of apartment and office buildings. "Ma'am, why do you suppose people aren't inside?"

She scanned the horizon. Other than a few darker columns billowing through the general haze of woodsmoke there was no sign of occupancy in much of the city. In the gloomy mid-morning there should have been lights on and cars about. "I don't know, but it looks like they have no power."

"Probably because they aren't from here. Look at how many have on dirty farm boots. Those aren't city folk." Findley grumped.

They reached the edge of the park. "Wharf is this way Ma'am." Miller gestured across an intersection where a traffic light hung dark and useless.

"I think we're more likely to find the people we're looking for near the city center," Findley interjected.

For a moment she debated whether they should avoid the wharf and try to find a hospital or police station. It had been almost a month since the last time she'd had to go in a place full of bodies and she'd like to keep it that way but time was limited so she steeled herself, pulling her breath in and squaring her shoulders. "There had been what looked like a fireman down there by the docks and he ought to be able to point us toward some kind of local leadership."

Findley looked to Burk to confirm. "I agree, that's our best bet." Burk set off toward the docks at a slow pace.

Fortunately they were saved from going that far. As they crossed the intersection a high pitched whine sounded between two city buildings on her right. Wolf's voice in ear piece reassured her it wasn't a threat. "Three men and a woman in two golf carts Ma'am. Looks like two cops and two business people. I have cover." She glanced around but didn't see Wolf anywhere.

Grateful to have his skills along she held up a hand to stop. "Looks like we're about to make contact."

The golf carts rolled to a stop in the middle of the intersection, clearly not worried about traffic anytime soon. A man in a short gray buzzcut and a wrinkled suit unfolded himself from the front cart while a policeman immediately took a position at his elbow. "Hello? Are you really from the US Navy?" The man stopped about ten feet away. His clothes and skin looked dirty but he was otherwise healthy. "We have been waiting for you."

"You have?" A shiver of fear crept down her spine. Most of the communities they had made contact with were slowly getting cleaned up and put to rights. Refugees were going home or joining new communities and slowly people were figuring out how to go on with their lives. "Are you in immediate need of assistance?" Maybe there wasn't a critical mass of cure this far north? "Is the flu still active here? Is that why so many are in tents?"

He shook his head. "No. We haven't had a case here in six weeks, not since our emissary to Saint Louis returned with the contagious cure. Our problem is the fuel. But we're doing the best we can."

Images of that horrid power plant in Baltimore flashed in her memory and she reflexively clenched a fist. "Fuel? I thought the whole reason there was navigation this far north was to bring coal north and offload oil and grain into barges to take downstream?"

He nodded. "You thought right." Finally he stepped closer. "I'm Mayor Hurley and these are my Chief of Police, Bob Gilham, County Sheriff Kelly Dawson, and the mayor of one of our suburbs, Mike Nelson."

Findley choose that moment to elbow past Miller. "Dennis Findley. Your Vice President."

Mayor Hurley took his outstretched hand without so much as a glance back at Alisha. "Let's go to my center of operations and we'll explain what's going on here."

Two hours later she sipped hot tea next to a blazing fire in the front parlor of the mayor's new office suite. Although Sioux City wasn't large it had taken almost half an hour by golf cart to arrive at the historic neighborhood that the Mayor was using for his center of operations. Along the way he had explained to Findley that they didn't have the gas to power cars anymore but they did have a few solar charging stations at the nearby community college campus they used for the golf carts. "If it wasn't raining and icy today we'd probably bike," He'd admitted. "We've chosen this neighborhood because most of the houses have fireplaces and our city engineer was able to reroute water from the reservoir using gravity. We just keep doing the best that we can."

The tea in her cup was going cold fast but she drank every drop after hearing how hard it was for them to maintain warm spaces. Still, she tried not to get too comfortable. She'd insisted on sticking with Findley and keeping her weapons, although Burk and Miller were just in the room next door. The fact that she still didn't know entirely what kind of situation she was dealing with kept her wary and tense. "Why the people along the river?"

He sighed. "Those people have been excluded from our shelters for one reason or another. Mostly it's drug use or thievery. Sioux City is a small community and we couldn't maintain a jail for people who were too tempted by the chaos of the times to behave. So we decided the most reasonable thing to do was to deny them services. Unfortunately. someone figured out that the trees along the river were an easy source of fuel and now we have a tent city."

"And you let them stay?" Findley's frown cut deep into his paunchy face.

Hurley sighed and leaned out of the shadow made by the firelight falling on the winged back of his chair. The deep lines of strain around his eyes were comforting somehow. He didn't try to pretend he was in control or cover up his stress with makeup the way her mother had. "They are managing, doing the best that they can. As long as they aren't stealing resources they are no longer entitled to, I am happy that maybe they are getting their act together." If the miserable mob of people huddling under dripping wet tents were doing better, she hated to think of what it had been like in the middle of winter.

"And the bodies on the wharf? Are they all people excluded from the shelters too?" She tried to screen the condemnation from her voice but there was an undeniable note of accusation all the same.

"Watch your tone Lieutenant. I am sure the mayor is doing the best he can." Although his voice was gentle, the judgmental look in Findely's eye was plain as day. She ignored her urge to roll her own eyes, promising herself that patronizing jerks were yet another reason she was glad not to follow her mother's footsteps into politics.

Mayor Hurley's back stiffened but unlike her, he had the ability to separate his emotional reaction from his response. "Don't worry Mr. Vice President, if nothing else, this experience has toughened my already thick skin." He nodded to Alishia. "Now, don't get me wrong Lieutenant, those are my citizens too. But we had to draw the line in the city shelters somehow and a simple set of requirements seemed the way to go. And I am as compassionate as the next man. That's why I didn't stop them when they began cutting trees for firewood." Her mother had applied a minimum standard for survival resources too so why were his criteria any less offensive? "And no, the bodies are mostly people who died from the flu. At first we stored them in the morgue until next of kin could collect them. When the morgue was overwhelmed the city took emergency control of a frozen foods company. Even after the power went out the storage was fine through the cold of winter. But last week we had a warm spell and we realized we needed to take action. Who is left to claim most of these people? So each night for the last week we have had a small respectful service and processed as many as we can. It's the best we can do right now."

Findley gave her a smug smile over the top of his highball glass as if to say "See, let the grownups handle it." His smile warmed as he turned it on Hurley. "Your dedication to your city is commendable Mayor. If everywhere in the US had such leadership we might not be in the vulnerable situation as a nation as we are now. That's why I am making this trip. We're not only spreading the cure but trying to get states organized to send representatives to St. Louis for a congress the summer. The way I see it, we are in a race to get the country back on track before the foreign vultures start circling."

Hurley contemplated the implied invitation. "I do not feel I could leave Sioux City now. But I think I know someone who might be up to the task Mr. Vice President. If you and your escort are able to stay o dinner, I will maneuver an introduction."

Satisfied, Findley launched into a long winded retelling of their trip, leaving out the gory discoveries over the last few days. By the time he had drained his drink she had convinced herself that the mayor seemed sincere and equally troubled as she was about the complicated ethics of dealing with refugees. For now, she was going to let herself believe that he really was doing his best. But there was one thing that still didn't make sense. "Why don't you have any fuel? We saw plenty of barges with coal and other goods on the trip from St. Louis and don't you have oil pipelines coming down from the north? My maps show a refinery here." For every free floating raft they had encountered there had been ten more in service. It was hard to believe Sioux City had been completely exiled.

The mayor nodded to everything she said, his bobbing gray cap reminded her of an older lady that used to sit in front of her family at church who always nodded her approval of each message in the Sunday sermon. Findley played the role of the elderly man that scowled at any children daring to make a noise. "All of those things are correct. But sometime in November the pipeline went dry. We sent people north initially, to try to figure out what the problem was, but then it snowed and there was no fuel to plow the roads and we lost the opportunity. We're planning a trip north soon but we're out of gasoline so we need to wait for good conditions to bike."

"You came to St. Louis from North Dakota, didn't you Vice President?" She kept her tone neutral, careful not to imply anything untoward and offend the prickly man.

Was it a trick of the firelight or did Findley wince as she questioned him? "Uh, I did, but I came through Minneapolis, where I have family, and then down the Mississippi." He waved a hand dismissively.

"And the barges? We saw many north of Omaha."

The mayor's lips firmed in a flat line. "I bet if you look at the Lieutenant's ship's log you didn't pass any north of Winnebago bend. That's where they stop."

"Winnebago bend?" She tried to remember where they had difficulty with navigation. The channel had been running deep and fast almost the entire way due to the heavy runoff caused by last week's warm spell. She couldn't remember any problems at all. "Do you have a map?"

"We'll have to use a flashlight but you'll see." He turned toward the vice president and politely waited to see if the older man would join them.

With a deep sigh, Findley set his glass on the table and the pushed slowly to his feet, as if he'd become an elderly man and it was a huge imposition to make him move. The mayor showed them to another room, this one a former dining room. The room was cold and dark without a fire but when he switched on a battery powered lantern hanging by a bungee cord from the chandelier it became obvious that this room was his command center. Maps and large sheets of paper with lists and trees of names were taped to every free space on the wood paneled walls. He pointed her to where many sheets were pieced together into a nine foot river map. "This is us here." He pointed out Sioux City. Tracing along the watercourse he listed off features to the south. "It's almost 50 river miles from here down to Decatur, which most barges can do in a day. But for pleasure boaters that's a long way." He slid his finger back to an inlet shaped like the letter H on the Nebraska side of the bank. "That there was supposed to be a recreational marina for a campground but the project was never finished."

She studied the map. There wasn't even a road leading to the area. "So what does this have to do with your fuel situation?"

"We get natural gas and light distillates by pipeline from the North. And you were right that there's a refinery a few miles south of here. When that pipeline went dry in September we figured the communities in the oil and gas patches were as sick as we were. But we were still getting coal and some fuel oil by barge so we planned to make do as well as we could. Came early January we stopped seeing barge traffic of any kind. No fuel, no food, no nothing. The trains have been down for months too."

"Did you send anyone down river to investigate? The President has been sending supplies north as much as possible."

"We did. Fred Thatcher took a tug down two weeks ago with a crew of six. He made it as far as this spot, radioing in every hour like clockwork, and then they disappeared. The last thing they reported was that a bunch of barges were tied up in the inlet and there was a new road right to the water's edge." He stabbed the dark mark made by the H shaped body of water. "The guys who went down looking found the tug half sunk on a snag a little ways downstream. She'd been burned to the waterline, no sign of her crew. They barely had the fuel to make it back so they didn't stick around to find out more." He shuddered and stepped back to face her. "That ship of yours have firepower?"

It did of course, but she wasn't sure that was the kind of offensive that would solve his problem. She didn't have the manpower to counteract organized river piracy, never mind an operation that involved incursions onto land. Besides, if they weren't going to be able to re-fuel here, she'd need to be very careful about usage going back down river.

"I'm hopeful that with this thaw something will come down the pipeline soon. I don't know how much longer our people here can hold on." His voice broke at the end and she realized that for all his cheerful welcome earlier, he really was just hanging on by a thread.

When the vice president continued to scowl at the map without reassuring the man she pulled herself to her full five feet six inches. "Well, I don't know what's going on, but I do know that President Michener is not intending to leave his communities high and dry, even if we all have to ration. I promise you we will begin working on a solution immediately." Her gaze flickered to the empty fireplace and she thought of the comfortably warm berth awaiting her back on the ship. "If you can take me back to my ship, I am going to discuss the situation with my commanding officer and we will decide what aid is possible before we leave the city tomorrow."

The mayor surprised her by reaching out and clasping her in a feeble hug. "Thank you Lieutenant. Thank you. All we can really ask is that you share our situation with the President. We'll pull through, one way or another, but any help to reduce the suffering in my city will be welcomed with open arms."


	6. Chapter 6 - Baltimore

**Baltimore, Lyle Lovett **

A few hours later, back in the tiny wardroom of the littoral ship, Alisha and Burk sat across from one another cradling hot drinks. They had finished reviewing the plan for the Vice President and his team to depart under the cover of darkness that evening. Chandler had modified their mission from simply finding enough representatives to convene a congress to also finding out how the communities along the pipelines were faring and why the flow of oil was stopped. Alisha was supposed to hightail the ship home so he could set up a fuel plan allowing them to patrol the river and investigate the piracy. Miller and Wolf were rounding up vehicles and Burk really should have been sleeping. But she didn't feel right sending him off with Findley without sharing some of her reservations about the Vice President. After she filled him in on what she'd learned in the Mayor's office, she drank her fourth coffee of the day. She doubted anything could warm her though. Every time she looked out the wardroom's small window she saw the meager fires of the refugees in the park and her bones felt a little colder. If Val was there she would have teased her for going over her self imposed two caffinated drinks a day limit, but today she wasn't just drinking tea to be social, she clung to the mug like it would save her from freezing entirely.

"We barely know Findley. Besides, we have a job to do and it isn't to second guess the decisions up the chain." Burk protested, hulking sullenly over his coffee.

Every now and then her side where she had been shot ached randomly. Rios said it was nothing to worry about, just a side effect of the scar tissue in her muscles. As she picked at a phantom hangnail to avoid showing her disappointment in Burk, her side began to throb. Burk was there in Baltimore. Didn't he see what happened there? She'd worked with him for three years though and he'd always been a little too earnest, a little too trusting. "I'm not saying to ignore orders. But, you're the one escorting him so just keep your eye on him and be safe. I have this weird feeling he knows more about what's going on in this part of the country than he lets on and I can't seem to shake it. I wouldn't feel like a good friend and colleague if I didn't say something about it"

"And what exactly do you suspect him of anyways? Not sharing information? He's the Vice President! He was a duly elected Senator before that. Maybe it's way above our paygrade." Burk scratched his head. "Yes I will keep a sharp eye on him. But so far, none of his decisions have cost me friends or colleagues." It wasn't a direct hit, but the dig hurt all the same. They had been friends too long for him to blame her for Ravit's death, but she was more than aware that in his mind Val and Michener still needed to earn his trust. Which meant that she, a a believer in those two, was suspect as well.

"I hope I'm wrong, I really do." She took a steadying breath before telling him the real reason she'd disliked Findley, even before she saw him in action. "Val had a bad feeling about him from the start and now I'm beginning to see why." Burk rolled his eyes at the mention of Val but remained silent. " I just want you to come back in one piece. You're going to be out there, just your team, and who knows who else. It sounds like we might have some kind of organized river and maybe even pipeline piracy. Your team will be too small to take on anything major and there will be no backup." Taking a chance she leaned over the desk and squeezed one of his hands between hers. "You might not have noticed but I'm running a little low on family these days. I couldn't bear to lose you too."

His face finally softened and he turned his hand to grasp one of hers. "I know. But don't worry Baby Girl, we'll all be doing our best to complete the mission in one piece. And I expect you to be careful too. It's a long way back to St. Louis."

She was finally able to relax. "I will. And now, in my official little sister role, I order you to your quarters to get as much rest as possible before you leave."

He pulled his hand back and began to rise, snorting as he did so. "Are you going to rest?"

Her hand stilled where it was halfway across the desk reaching for her mug. "I doubt it."

He backed toward the doorway. "Yep, that's what I thought."

But surprisingly, she leaned back in her chair and found herself nodding off almost immediately.


	7. Chapter 7 - Possum Kingdom

**Possum Kingdom, Toadies**

Mike chewed absently at the stub of his cigar. So far his first deployment as captain of the Nathan James was shaping up to be more rewarding than he expected. He spun his tall chair a quarter turn to the right and glanced at the picture of Mason and Bertrice that he'd pinned to the visor above his bridge station. The extra day spent in Jamaica had been worth the lost time. The island had been hard hit and those that survived were cautious about coming to the Kingston wharf to shake hands for the cure. But seeing those two crazy kids so happy had given him hope that things were turning normal once again. Although it was a huge loss to his crew, he couldn't argue with Chandler's decision to grant Lieutenant Mason's request to stay in Jamaica and organize distribution of the contagious cure across the Caribbean. It allowed the Nathan James to get to Panama three days ahead of schedule after all. And it was only temporary. Mason would be back, better than ever in no time.

"All ahead, quarter." The bosun directed the helmsmen.

"All ahead, quarter. Aye." For all his years in the Navy he'd never been through the canal. In better times they would have had a party to celebrate. Some of the crew might be planning a party for all he knew. But tonight he would be entertained by the harbor master and his assistant instead. Chandler and Michener had made it clear that this mission was part humanitarian, part diplomatic so he could hardly refuse the invitation. The good thing about the slow passage through the canal was that he could go ashore and catch up while the ship kept moving forward, albeit slowly.

At precisely 1730 he and Commander Garnett met by the gangplank. Her dress uniform was freshly pressed and she'd put on a little lipstick. Otherwise, Andrea was the same old Andrea. He was relived to have her by his side. "You ready for this Commander? You know diplomacy is not my best skill."

Her mile wide grin put him at ease. "I'm always ready for a dinner that doesn't involve a tray Sir." Behind her, the three crew tasked with starting the distribution of the cure laughed and nodded in agreement.

"No Sir and Ma'am tonight. I insist." He held a hand out indicating that she should proceed him across the small gangplank extending from the pumphouse of the first lock. Once they all crossed he turned and gave a quick send off salute to Master Chief who was sure to be watching from the upper deck. Almost immediately two petty officers hustled out to fold up the retractable stairs and there was a flurry of action at the bow where ropes began to be cast off.

They met their hosts just inside the pumphouse door. The small waiting room was filled with people, some in uniform and others in various forms of tropical formal wear. A wiry man, a little more balding than Slattery himself, jumped to action as soon as he saw them, striding forward confidently. "Commanders! Thank you so much for joining us." He extended a hand and gave each of them a firm shake as he made introductions. "I'm Alex Rivera and this is my assistant, Ms. Shaw."

Ms. Shaw turned speculative eyes on Mike, giving him the kind of once over he usually expected someplace like a nightclub, not a professional dinner. But then again, the woman was exquisite. Her blond hair was pulled into a sleek twist without a single stray hair or pin showing. Her dress hugged lush curves and displayed neatly toned legs. After he shook Rivera's hand she didn't wait for an invitation taking his hand in a firm shake while looking him straight in the eye. "Call me Allison, please. And welcome to Panama," she purred. He bet anything that if he had eyes on the back of his head he would have seen Andrea rolling her eyes.

"Ah. Thank you. And I've brought some colleagues, the Nathan James' Chief Engineer and Executive Officer, Commander Andrea Garnett. And of course, as we discussed earlier today, our team to begin transmission of the contagious cure."

Allison barely acknowledged Andrea but at the mention of the cure Rivera's smile brightened even further. "Wonderful. Everyone here is eager to get started. Can we proceed with that immediately?"

Andrea stepped forward. "We can." She explained how the cure worked and emphasized that they were running out of injectable doses so it was imperative that the people who received the cure today passed it on immediately. "Do you have three volunteers to receive the injections and start the chain?" She motioned to where PO2 Gilbert and his team were setting their cases on the small Formica topped reception desk.

Mike looked around the room. Most of the people were milling in small groups, talking softly and watching the meeting with speculative glances. Based on their attire he guessed most worked in offices. He shook his head. "We need to maximize the doses we have. These are the wrong kind of people."

"Well naturally I thought myself and Alex would volunteer, and my secretary Marium too." Allison flicked two fingers to call over a petite woman modeling similar business attire as herself from the sensible nude pumps to the perfectly proportioned pearls at her ears. "She's not a US citizen though so if that's a problem I can find someone else."

Andrea did a double take before pasting on what Mike knew was her grin and bear it smile. "Oh no, you misunderstand Mike. The thing is, we only have three injectable doses and the recipients only stay contagious for about seven days. So we need to make sure to give it to people who have lots of person to person contact and maybe some that will carry it farther south. Can you find us some school teachers, truck drivers, nurses, waiters, people like that?" Next to Shaw's perfectly made-up face Andrea's angry red flush was glaring and Mike wondered what had angered her so much. It was just a simple misunderstanding.

Rivera laid a calming hand on Shaw's arm. "I think we can manage that. Perhaps Marium can work with our staff and round up some people while we enjoy the meal. Shaw relented, although her stiff pivot on one heel shouted her frustration loud and clear.

Andrea nodded to Gilbert and the young man hurried to introduce himself to Marium. That accomplished she squared her shoulders. "Alright Rivera, please, we're eager to hear all about how you kept the canal open through everything."

Mike had no problem letting Andrea take the lead. In addition to being unquestioningly capable, it freed him up to observe their hosts and surroundings. As Rivera led them down a few flights of stairs and out to a small courtyard Mike noted the absence of trash and dirt. Many of the places they had been had obviously fallen into disrepair during the outbreak. "How did you keep this place up so well?" He asked Shaw, who was trailing Andrea and Rivera with him.

She looked around almost as if she hadn't even noticed. "We all did our regular jobs during the quarantine." He recalled clearing that apartment complex in Chicago with his son-in-law when they first began distributing the cure. God how he hated the word quarantine now. Her brow furrowed. "Rivera took his orders to restrict entry into the facility very seriously. I have to tell you that for a while he wasn't very popular around here. Although Panama followed everything the US did, there was a three day time lag between when we closed ourselves off and when the country closed its borders. Ships were stuck in port and people inside the facility were cut off from their families with no notice. The first two months were dark days."

"Why only the first few months?"

Her perfectly sculpted brows became angry slashes. "Well, the people outside were mostly done dying by then. I suppose you missed all that while you were safe on your ship in the Arctic."

He felt a pang of what he supposed could be termed survivor's guilt. "It was a huge gamble, sending us to the Arctic. All it would have taken was one person infected and it would have spread through the ship like fire. I guess that's why no other major ships survived, at least that we know of so far."

Shaw grimaced. "That and the fact that one ship went rogue and scuttled every other destroyer and carrier in both the third and seventh fleets."

"What!" Several heads turned at the roar of Mike's voice. "How could that even happen?"

"Oh come on Allison, we don't know that's exactly how it happened. And the CnR Pact took huge losses too." Rivera volleyed.

"Well if you ask that guy claiming to be the new president of California, it was part of a conspiracy by the US government to leave us defenseless against Russia." Shaw compromised.

Andrea stepped in. "That's asinine. Most of the ships probably sank because without someone to run all the onboard systems and without fuel they would eventually run into trouble one way or another."

Rivera shook his head. "We'll see if we can find some news footage somewhere. It happened back in August when maybe only 15% of the population had been infected. Society hadn't completely broken down yet but as the worldwide war broke out, China and Tikhey Russia, oh yeah you probably didn't know that Russia fractured early on, made a pact with China, and came for our arsenal. They would have succeeded too if those ships weren't removed from their reach. But after that, it went downhill fast."

Reeling from the news, Mike looked around. The complex was mostly various shipping offices and customs warehouses. "How did you survive?"

She pointed toward the east. "Did you see that big Dutch ship moored a few miles out?" He vaguely recalled a container ship with an orange hull, but then again, there had been several ships offshore, as there often were around major ports of call. "Well we made a deal with them. We brought them freshwater in exchange for goods from their containers. They kept several enclaves going around Panama City."

"Weren't you worried that once one of their customers got the flu they'd become a typhoid Mary?"

"No, we worked out a protocol. They would come in and dock and use the overhead cranes to offload a container. Then we would come in and wash it and dry it for three days before opening it. There was no human contact or surface contact either way."

"Sounds like a good system. Nothing has been so heartbreaking as seeing communities that suffered because they became afraid to help one another. Whose idea was this system?"

She pulled her posture so straight he could have used her as a model for any group of new recruits. "It was my plan. Before the Red Flu hit I was the director of customs logistics."

They had caught up to Rivera and Garnett as they talked. "Commanders, I hope you don't mind the decor of our dining room. This was once a cube farm." Rivera opened a door into a large office room. Conference tables of different sizes were arranged into long rows with one small table set off by itself perpendicular to the others. The setup reminded Mike of a medieval hall.

"It smells delicious." Andrea wasted no time heading for the separated table where gleaming china was already set out on a white tablecloth. "You didn't need to go to all this trouble for us."

Rivera smiled graciously as he pulled out a seat for Garnett. "It was no trouble. Well, at least not for me. Allison is the one who handled everything. But I should say, we have had it easy in many ways. Once we decided we had the right to use the goods we got form the container ship, I have to admit we have been living a little like kings."

Allison's heavily made up cheeks hid any modest flush she might have had. "Well, it was the least we could do to receive the carriers of the actual cure. But don't get too excited yet. I hope you like fish because it's the only kind of non-canned or dried meat we've had for a long time."

They settled into a discussion of how Rivera might help spread the cure. "You know, in my position here I've met people from all over the world and all walks of life from visiting dignitaries and officals to the lowest dock hand." Rivera waved his fork as he leaned over his plate. "And I am sure that this is not going to be a one size fits all kind of thing. If I was in a position to advise Michener on this, I'd say he has to step very carefully as you distribute the cure worldwide. There's a lot of cultural nuances that are important in statesmanship and I'm not sure that Michener is up to the task of creating foreign policy in the entirely alien landscape we're faced with."

Mike leaned back and chewed the final bite of an excellently prepared snapper as he considered Rivera's words. He and Chandler might debate Michener's fitness in private but they'd been careful not to express doubts in public. Andrea had a response ready. "Well, I think we are going on the assumption that the cure is above the games of statesmanship. This was a global crisis and it deserves no less than a global solution. It would be wrong for us not to bring it to everyone else as fast as we can."

Shaw set her fork down next to a nearly untouched fillet with a distinct click. "I think what Rivera is being too nice to say directly is that Michener should be taking advantage of this opportunity. Every contact he has with the other powers around the world sets the stage for new relationships with those countries for years to come. Sailing around and showing up unannounced, in a random order no less, is no way to go about it."

"Well no one has complained so far." Andrea's eyes flashed as she defended their orders. Of course, Mike remembered, she knew about Michener's struggles but she hadn't been there and seen him in his darkest hours. Mike suspected there was more that even he didn't know. But he did know that Michener was all they had and like him or not, he was rightfully Mike's boss.

"But so far every country you've contacted is used to being in receivership to other, more powerful, countries. Jamaica, Haiti, Cuba even here in Panama, we're all more than happy to take aid. What happens when you go to someplace like South America or Europe or Asia and just start in whatever city you land in? What if it's perceived as an attempt to subvert each countries sovereignty because you didn't go through diplomatic channels, whatever they may be? Michener needs to staff up and do it right from the start."

Rivera sighed at the way Shaw's volume rose with her impassioned speech. "Please forgive my colleague. She tends to hold her opinions very strongly."

Mike cleared his throat. "Thank you Ms. Shaw, for sharing your opinion that is. Michener knows he needs people, but his hands are somewhat tied by the fact that we're still trying to figure out if there are people alive with the kinds of skills and knowledge for those jobs."

Andrea's posture stiffened as she set down her napkin and crossed her arms over her chest. "Unfortunately, even if he wanted to, Michener can't really hire anyone. We have no congress. And believe us when we say he's trying hard to get one in place. But what was the count of Senators and Representatives this morning Mike?"

"3, and he made one of them Vice President."

"Yeah, so less than 3% of the senate has survived. Her face pinched for a moment. "That's actually better than the rest of the population. But you know, this is one of those times when checks and balances gets in the way. There's no power to do anything without a budget and there is no budget without a congress. In some of the states, the sitting Governor doesn't even have the power to appoint someone so they have to sort out how to have an election as quickly as possible while still keeping it fair and honest. In other states, there hasn't been continuity in the state government so figuring out what they're even allowed to do is a problem."

Shaw pushed her plate back from the edge of the table and gave a subtle flick of her hands to one of the waiting servers. "This county started from nothing once before and it can do it again. Maybe it won't be exactly the same. Or maybe, like the first time, we need to go through an intermediate stage first. Either way, we," She waved a finger between herself and Rivera, want to help make it a success."

After the desert and coffee Rivera and Shaw led them back the way they came. An idea had been tugging at the back of Mike's consciousness like a trout testing a juicy worm. "Tomorrow, while the ship makes its transit of the locks, we get a bit of a break. How about you to come with us to the ship and we can call into St. Louis together. Who knows, maybe Chandler can get Michener on the line and you can tell him your concerns yourself."

"Oh, well, we don't need to go to such…" Rivera began before Shaw cut him off.

"I think that's an excellent idea." Shaw's lips curved up at the corners, a little too much for a smile out of politeness but less than a full on grin. The effect reminded him of a cat they had long ago that used to bring mice to the bathtub and then watch them struggle to climb the steep sides for a while before going for the final pounce. It made him wonder exactly what her end game was.


	8. Chapter 8 - South Dakota

**South Dakota, James McMurty**

Lightening sizzled on the horizon as Burk handed his field glasses to Wolf, thankful once again that he had someone more experienced working on land with the team. They'd been driving west across South Dakota toward these storms all day and he hoped to hell they weren't about to encounter something serious. The heavy clouds seemed to press down with the promise of change in the air. He leaned against the hood of the dusty truck and pointed out over the snow dusted prairie rolling away in front of them. "west-northwest, maybe 2 kliks off. You think that's a fire?" He shuddered remembering the last time he'd gotten too close to a wildfire. Every sailor learned to fear fire early on in their training but for him it was his worst nightmare.

Wolf scanned the area until he saw a large dust cloud billowing up from the ground with no apparent source. Adjusting the focus on the glasses he zeroed in on the land surface and saw that there was probably a steep gully and whatever was making the dirty plume was probably down in it. "I don't think so. I've worked a few fires down in OZ. Looks like there's a wash or something down there and.." As he watched a few cattle scrambled up over the lip. "Someone's driving cattle along it."

Burk relaxed against the hood, thankful that it wasn't a storm or a fire. "Must be a lot of cows to make that much dust."

"Whoa cool! I want to see. I didn't know people herded cows in the Dakotas. I thought that was only way out west." Diaz called from where he was standing lookout behind their trucks.

From the front of the truck Miller scoffed. "Haven't you ever heard of an Omaha steak?"

"Naw mate. I think those are dairy cows." Wolf shook his head. "Why would they move the cows rather than just fill a truck with milk?"

Miller scoffed again and came around to Burk's side of the truck. Wolf passed the glasses over. "You don't drive dairy cows. You truck them. Too much moving around reduces the milk production." He peered through the lenses oblivious to the bemused glances around him. "But…I am wrong. Those are Holsteins."

"What's a holstein?" Diaz was leaning over the hood now too. Burk knew he ought to scold him for leaving his post but they were wide open on a major interstate in the flattest land he'd ever seen. If a car approached they'd all know it five minutes before it got there.

"It's a breed of cow. Dude, Florida has tons of cows. How do you not know this?" Miller rolled his eyes. He'd been flip flopping between playing big brother and playing Mr. Cool with Diaz ever since they left St. Louis. God these guys were young! Of course, Burk supposed Wolf might feel the same way about him. Half the time he felt ridiculous ordering the other man around given his comparative lack of experience. But Wolf never seemed offended and even seemed to relish the role of all around git-r-done guy.

"Lay off him Miller. I'm practically from Wisconsin and I know nothing about livestock. If you grew up in a city you probably wouldn't know a cow from a bull either."

Diaz gave Miller a chin bump. "That's right. In Miami the only way we like to see our beef is between two buns."

He failed to bite back his bark of laughter when Wolf gave an exaggerated wink and said, "Yeah, I've heard that about guys in Miami." Diaz paused as what he'd said sank in but then he laughed easily.

Red faced, Miller stepped back from Diaz. "Oh! Oh I thought you were into girls. Ah, well I guess I was wrong then." His eyes moved quickly from the truck to the horizon to Wolf and then the truck again, seeking anything but Diaz to look at.

"Since I'm pretty sure I'm the only one of our little party with a girlfriend right now, not counting Flickertail…" He gestured toward the truck where the Vice President was waiting patiently in the backseat. "…you don't have to worry. I'm not after your man-cherry Miller." Burk wondered if he had ever been so deliberately rude in his plebe days.

Miller had come a long way though. Instead of refusing to banter and leaving an awkward silence like he might have a few months ago, he stared Diaz down. "You do not have a girlfriend. We'd totally know."

Diaz's cheeks darkened. "Ok, Ok, she's not exactly officially a girlfriend in the will-you-go steady-with-me sense that you're thinking of but there's a girl that I have an understanding with."

"I have never seen you hanging out with any girls except Kat and…" Miller shot back. "Ohhhh." His eyes opened wide. "How did I not know? Did you know?" He turned to Wolf. "Did you Sir?"

"Not my business." What could he say. He'd assumed it was the case but he really had no idea. Neither did he want to have an idea what the young guys got up to in their free time. If they wanted to call it friends with benefits or an understanding or whatever, what did he care?

"So you and Kat…"

"You'll have to get your own girlfriend to figure out how it all works Miller, but yeah, I'm most definitely not interested in anyone else."

"Hummph." Miller pulled the glasses back up to his eyes, effectively ending the exchange. "Looks like they are headed the same way we are, toward Williston Sir."

Wolf flattened a map against the hood of the car. "We're about half a day away. I guess if other people are traveling in that direction then that's a good sign that it won't be like Sioux City." There was a collective shudder as they remembered the sight that had greeted them when the Rio Grande sailed into Sioux City. Wolf jerked a thumb toward the VP. "You want me to give him an update on the plan?"

Burk nodded, once again glad to have such an experienced member on the team. "Yeah, I suppose we ought to. Remind him how important it is to stay in the car until we can determine if the MCF is active in the area. We don't want him being recognized and drawing attention to us before we figure out the lay of the land." The Vice President had already proven to be less obedient than the President. He always insisted on being in the think of things, even when that put himself in danger.

Twenty miles down the road, where it was just beginning to rain lightly, they came to a road block made out of chain link fences and trucks. Despite the cure making it's way west on it's own, people were still suspicious of outsiders and trying to isolate themselves. This one wasn't the first or the most elaborate barrier they'd seen in the last few days but almost twenty men, some of them mounted on painted ponies, milled about. There were ruts worn in the mud and snow where cars had crossed the median to head back the other way. Dozens of colorful flags that Carlton had never seen before were tied on to the fence while poles elevated two larger flags above the rest. A man with his arms crossed underneath a white flag with a kind of rainbow pattern on it. On the other side an equally fierce man stood under a light blue flag with a ring on it. It took him a minute to realize it wasn't a sunshine, but a ring of white tents around a smaller yellow circle in the middle of the flag. Both were wearing blue medical gloves and face masks.

Burk slowed the truck and nodded to Diaz who slid his sidearm down into the space between the door and seat. He glanced in the rear view to see Miller and Wolf cleaning up the cab of the SUV behind him.

"We're going with the same story?" Diaz asked, low under his breath. The kid had good instincts to recognize that there was something different about this stop.

"Yeah, let me do as much of the talking as possible." He stopped fully but waited for someone to approach before rolling down the window. The cold air smelled of damp fields and a smoky fire.

A tall man in a sheepskin lined denim jacket pushed up a pair of mirrored sunglasses to hold back his long dark hair. He felt the man's dark eyes sweep over him and the interior of the truck and noted that he was careful to stand out of arm's reach. "Have you had the cure today?"

Had he had it today? He was cured. But something that Ray and Danny had reported from the prison jogged his memory. "Yeah, back in Sioux City."

"We don't have the cure here so you cannot stay."

OK, so not the friendliest bunch then. Two men immediately split off to the back and he saw three more with the group behind them. Time to ramp up his best Sunday school charm. "Hi there." He gave his warmest smile. "How are you today? Me and my buddies are trying to get up to Williston."

"Can't get to Williston from here." The man crossed his rifle over his chest and stared at Burk.

As they had done a few other times, Ray leaned forward and handed Burk a map. "Dios! I told you I was bad with maps. I hope there are still jobs available when we get there." He laid on the accent thick and scowled petulantly. Every other time the guards had corrected Ray and told him how this was ordinarily the right way to go. Then they would play up a story about how they were racing to get up there and get jobs before all the other out of work oil laborers in Louisiana and Texas heard about it and took all the jobs. By the time they promised not to get out of the car the guards would ease up and let them through.

But this time Burk had a feeling that story wasn't going to be enough. He ignored the man's direction to turn around. "When the old man finally made contact with his mother and she said there was work up 'round his home in Williston, we got organized and headed this way. You know anything about that? We've come all the way from Louisiana hoping to find jobs in the patch."

The guard frowned. "Don't sound like you're from Louisiana. How about you hand over some ID?" He held out a clear plastic bag so they dutifully dropped in their driver's licenses. The man signaled to his buddies behind him that the other car needed to show ID too. He stepped to the back corner of the truck Burk was driving and he had to strain his ears, but other than "The big guy's an Aussie." He couldn't make out what they were saying. Shit. He wasn't good at going with the flow and deviating from the plan the way Danny was and he wasn't able to see ten steps ahead the way Chandler did. He didn't have Tex's glib tongue either.

"Why the bag?" Ray whispered.

"I don't think they know about the contagious cure. That way they can read the ID's without touching them."

Unbidden he thought of Ravit. She would have excelled at something like this. Knowing her she'd have these guys eating out of her hand so well she'd be ten miles down the road before they figured out they had been taken in by a pretty face. A memory of her comments on board the Solace almost drew a snort from him. She probably would have just gunned it and taken off. But with two cars and no pretty face, there was no way they'd get away without someone getting hurt. Panic drilled away at his stomach, making it hard to sit still.

The guy in the sheepskin jacket approached the window again. Shit, shit, shit. He still had no idea what to say. "What would five guys from four different states and a foreign country be doin' in Louisiana?"

The fingers that were gripping the steering wheel tightened. He tried to channel his best Danny Green and just go with it. "I told you we were working in oil, didn't I? We were all on a team together. Rode out the flu on a rig. We're just trying to find work, somewhere, any where. We went to Texas but they aren't drilling there, just pumping."

"Why not stay in Louisiana? Now that the MCF is distributing the cure it should be safe there."

"Yeah but those Navy guys are making it hard to do business in the Gulf. A lot of platforms are still shut down. Too risky bringing ships in and out what with the chance of getting shot at by something from one of their boats. Lost a friend that way, decided to find something else." Sorry, sorry for using your memory this way; he silently apologized to Ravit as he let the grief show on his face.

The man studied him for a bit before finally relaxing the grip on his gun. "You know anything about the Navy stuff? We heard the President was in St. Louis. We were thinking of sending a party, to renegotiate our treaties while we can. But then we heard a ridiculous story about ships in the Mississippi river and realized we were better off staying put. By the time the US wants to mess with us again we'll be stronger anyway."

"I think the thing about the ships mught be true, The President is in Saint Louis. We came through that way on our way North." Burk leaned back so the guy could see Ray talking. The kid was much more convincing that he could ever be.

"Hrmph. Someone radio Yellowleaf and Ferguson. We'll escort these guys through." The lead guard called over his shoulder inciting a flurry of activity. Turning back to Burk he said, "The only work worth doing in Williston is for the MCF. No one else can get the cure there. They're looking for people with oil skills though, asked us to send them through our territory. So we'll bring you through."

The flapping of the flag behind him jogged a memory of something he'd seen in the news before they sailed from Norfolk. "Let us through where?"

"Our land." The man's firm reply suggested he shouldn't question it but still, it was a puzzle why the MCF was even interested in a place so far off the beaten path like South Dakota in the first place.

"Whose land?" as soon as he asked it dawned on him.

"The People's. This is the Cheyenne River Reservation boundary according to the 1846 treaty. After that the highway crosses through the Standing Rock Reservation. Since none of you are of the People, the Lakota Nation will permit you entry with appropriate escort only. Unless you can show that you are a member of one of our allied nations, that is."

"The USA isn't your ally?"

"Not right now they aren't. That new President hasn't even sent a single envoy to spread the cure to us. Now, we're used to being forgotten. But given that the MCF had a team here only a few days after the radio broadcast announcing the President's arrival in St. Louis and our First Nations friends tell us that their king had someone to them days before that event, we see where our allegiance should lie. The relationship with the US has always been tenuous and we're ready for a better offer. But, I suppose all that means nothing to you."

Burk thanked the man and waited to be waved through. A younger man pulled out in front of him in a dusty Ford Ranger. One tail light was out and there was a large crack running through the back window of the cab. "Guess we follow them?" Ray asked.

"Guess so." The leader waved them through the gate and they headed down the highway. The Ford Ranger seemed to top out at about 55 so pretty soon they were rolling along vast tracts of dried grass, broken occasionally with a patch of bare dirt, leftover snow, or a rundown trailer home.

About thirty miles in they passed through a small town. It was basically a row of trailers along the highway. There weren't yards in the proper sense, not like the neighborhood he grew up in back in Chicago. But the area around the trailers was strewn with broken washing machines, cars, and playground equipment like some kind of dirty cloud of the residents' past lives. Ray stared out the window, his brows knit tightly. A few pinto ponies were tethered in a corral at one end of the street, hay stomped into the muddy earth. An old bath tub served as a watering trough. "Are all reservations like this? There's nothing here!"

Carlton sighed. He supposed that until this trip the kid hadn't seen much outside of South Florida. "Yeah, all the ones I've ever seen are." The closest he'd ever been to something like this was a bachelor's party at an Indian casino in Wisconsin and it had at least had a few restaurants and an RV park.

"Hmmm." Ray turned in his seat watching as the little town faded in the background. He did the same at the next one. "Is it like this on the ones out west, like Utah and Nevada, and Colorado?"

"I don't know Ray. I have spent most of my adult life at sea. Why, were you thinking of moving there?"

Ray snorted. "No, but I know someone back in St. Louis who grew up outside of a Ute reservation in Nevada. I'm just wondering if it was like this."

Ute? He eyed Ray sharply. He hadn't been on the President's tour of the midwest so he couldn't be the traitor. He wondered who the friend was and began running down the list of people who had been on the trip. The only person who had been there that he could recall Ray spending time with was Miller, but he grew up in Iowa so he couldn't be the one either. He'd have to give this whole thing more thought. Somewhere quiet. Preferably with a beer and maybe a nice warm shower. As they rolled on out of the little village there were some fields of broken corn stalks. A tractor was left in the middle of the field, a trailer hitched to the back. He recalled similar sights back in the midwest and wondered if any new messages had been sent about the trips this time.

It wasn't until 10 PM that night when they finally reached Bismark. In the end, the guys who escorted them across the reservations had been pretty nice. They'd stopped at a tiny shack and fed them some kind of fish and wild rice thing for dinner and given some advice on where to go and what to say if they wanted to get into an oil crew up in Williston. The Vice President had done a good job keeping his identity secret by claiming he had worked his way up the ladder to vice president of a small wildcat company. He seemed to know an awful lot about the oil industry for a guy that worked in railroads. It gave him the freedom to ask a lot of good questions, questions someone like Chandler would have though of too, but which Burk couldn't ask under his guise as oil laborer. Things like how were they getting supplies, medical care, and fuel out here. It turned out that the MCF sent a truck on a predefined route everyday, stopping in the little villages on a schedule to deliver their version of the cure and supplies.

"Sounds like the way the old company stores used to provide everything a worker needed, for a price." Observed the vice president.

The young guy introduced himself as Johnny Yellowleaf. He proudly informed them that he was Seneca but had moved west to be closer to his wife's family after college. "I grew up in a totally apple family so it wasn't until I moved here that I really understood the way the US government treated us. For almost two hundred years they have boxed us into this land, told us the land was ours, but then as soon as they want to do something, or some company bribes them with enough money, they tell us we can't set our own limits or control it. So far, the Mexicali's have been better. They asked us to tell them what we wanted in the new treaty negotiations. We wanted the cure and we wanted true sovereignty, and they were willing to give it to us.

"But what do you give them in return?" This came from Wolf. "I've seen this kind of thing all over the world and there's always a cost."

"We're guarding this part of their border. When you cross back out you'll be crossing into future MCF territory. Eventually, everything west of the Mississippi will belong to them or us."

"Is that what you want?" The Vice President clasped his hands over his plate and leaned in on his elbows. "To be part of the MCF? It sounds like they want to spread into this part of the country for the oil. I thought that was a problem?"

Yellowleaf shook his head. "What I want is impossible so it doesn't matter. They have shut off the pipelines crossing our sacred lands because it serves the US. This is good for us. Our people and the land cannot be separated. We are the People because of this land and this land is what it is because of us. Governments can't change that, but borders certainly can make it hard to live the lives we want."

At first he'd felt sad for Yellowleaf. He would never argue that the US had a great track record for treating people fairly or even for upholding what it actually said in the constitution about equality. After all, he'd grown up well aware that We the people might as well read We the white people with money. But now, after a few hours of contemplation along the dark road under his belt, he was angry: angry that the country he had loved despite its shortcomings was coming to disappoint him in so many ways, angry that the work he had to do might not help alleviate the injustices being committed by his very own government, and angry that it had taken something like the Red Flu to even know about this.

They were crowded into a hotel room for the night. Ray was already sound asleep on the floor; Wolf was in the shower; and Miller was playing solitaire as he waited for his turn. "Sir, I need to check in with Chandler. Do you want to join me?" He could care less if Findley joined him, but he was trying hard to give the guy a chance.

"Guess we gotta do it sometime." The Vice President frowned and began layering on winter-wear.

They trudged out into the frosty air of the truck and used the sat phone to call in. The ensign who answered informed him that Chandler was out viewing houses but Michener would like to talk to Findley instead. They waited while the President was transferred. It sounded like someone was physically carrying a wireless phone from Chandler's office in the East wing to Michener's in the West wing.

"Dennis, Lieutenant Burk, I trust everything is going OK?"

Findley cleared his throat and launched into a retelling of the day's events. When he described how the MCF was winning the loyalty of the locals and they in turn were blocking roadways Michener sighed heavily and the line fell silent for a few long moments afterward. "Like so many things, my hands are tied until we have a true legislative branch, which you well know we won't have until you round up some people to hold special elections in the states. But the sanctity of our borders is paramount I suppose." I suppose? What the heck had Carlton made a career doing if Michener was going to shrug and let pieces of their nation fall away so casually? "If you have any more run ins of that sort, let it be known that I will welcome their envoy in St. Louis at any time, but without a congress to ratify any treaties, they can not be validated."

Ever the consummate politician, Findley scowled but his tone remained agreeable. "I understand Sir. Yes, so far we've only been to two states and neither had anyone acting in a leadership capacity beyond the municipal level. We've been leaving that gingerbread trail to the Whitehouse so to speak. Hopefully it will pan out."

After he hung up Findley made no move to get out of the car. Carlton waited, wondering if he was expecting him to go around and open the door. The cold air outside was seeping into his bones, reminding him of the trip to the arctic only 8 months ago. Finally he sighed and made a move toward the door handle. The Vice President seemed to want more pomp and ceremony than the actual President did.

That was when Findley finally stabbed a finger into the dashboard. "Make no mistake, this new President has a lot to learn. Imagine if we negotiated with everyone the way he wants me to make concessions to the goddamn redskins!"

Carlton recoiled a if he had just been slapped. "Excuse me sir?"

"They've never shown one whit of gratitude for all that the government gives them. It's practically like giving aid to a foreign country, keeping these people living out here. And do you know why we do it? Because they aren't willing to move to where the jobs are. Could you do that, expect a check from the government to sit on your ass and contribute nothing to the economy?"

How the heck was he supposed to respond to that? This man was the Vice President for crying out loud. If anything happened to Michener he'd have to take orders from him. But his Mama's voice, telling him to always stand up for what was right, stuck in the back of his head. He might agree with Findley on the issue of welfare but he would never agree to different rights for different people. "You heard Yellowleaf, this land and these people are tied together. This isn't about the economy, it's about heritage."

"Heritage doesn't pay the bills son." And with that final patronizing word, Burk decided one thing; Michener may not be everything he'd hoped for in a president, but he would do everything in his power to keep him in office because this man would never be the leader his country deserved.


	9. Chapter 9 -I've Been Everywhere

**I've Been Everywhere, Johnny Cash**

Wolf didn't like Williston from the very second they arrived. He could adapt to the cold and windy weather but everything about it reminded him of the boom and bust mining towns of his childhood. For the last few miles they had passed row after row of trailer homes. Most were abandoned but every quarter mile or so there would be a cluster with their lights on to ward off the early evening darkness. The blue glow of TV screens lit each dirty window, each set next to identical gray front doors and hastily built steps. If he knew this kind of place, and he did, a fair number of them would feature grown men playing video games and watching porn to fill the time away from their families. While that might be similar to downtime on a ship, the difference was that these guys had no guarantee that they would have a job next month, next week, or even tomorrow. The souless little houses screamed of lives without purpose in a way that the snug cabins on a ship nevr did.

The Vice President tapped the window. "Slow down Chief." It irked him to no end that the man refused to address him properly but he did it anyways.

Miller was riding shotgun and his head was practically on a 360 swivel. "What are you looking at?"

"See those pipelines about 50 yards north of us?"

He squinted to pick up the contrast of the white paint against the white snow. "Yeah, they look fine to me." Beside him Miller shrugged. "You want to follow them back to Sioux City and see if there's a leak?" They looked practically brand new to Wolf. If this was Australia the paint would be peeling from sun damage and weeds would outline their route. Instead everything was pristine.

"There's nothing flowing in them." The Vice President stated confidently. "The oil and gas are hot when they come out of the ground. The snow on top should have melted and left a muddy track underneath."

Miller nodded. "So we should follow it the other way?" After what they had heard about the MCF, he doubted the pipeline was leaking. The Vice President directed him to exit the highway into a small city center. Except for a few boarded up windows, the traditional main street looked barely touched by the Red Flu.

"The power is on and stores are open!" Miller exclaimed. "Hey, do you think we might have time to find a Sunglasses Hut? I lost my best pair back in New Orleans." Wolf never tired of his optimism.

From the backseat the Vice President commented dryly. "Young man, we are not here for a shopping trip. You might recall that we need to generate a congress. I also need to check in with my family. I have had no contact with them for weeks now and Mrs. Findley will be worried." Wolf noticed he didn't mention figuring out why fuel wasn't flowing to the cities east and south.

"Yeah, I get it." Wolf had never seen Miller any way other than friendly and cooperative with everyone, but around the Vice President he seemed to regress to sullen teenager.

"Alright, my offices were in that block up there." The vice president directed them toward an angled parking space. Wolf wondered why he didn't want to go home first but to each their own he supposed.

Burk and Ray pulled in next to them. The brightly lit storefront was decorated with red and white campaign posters and streamers.

"Sir, don't you want to go home first?" Burk slid out of the car and opened the Vice President's door. Miller was already in position to provide a screening level of cover and Ray came around to stand behind the older man.

"No. We moved out of our house and into the city when the campaign started." He produced a key from his pocket. "No more late night prairie drives for me! I live in that neighborhood back there." He pointed through his office building and Wolf surmised that there was a residential area nearby.

A few hours later Mrs. Findley answered the door of a McMansion on the edge of a country club golf course. At least he assumed when the snow melted there would be a golf course under there. Her greeting to her husband after nearly two months apart was a measly "Hum, I suppose you'll be wanting a late dinner." It was barely 5:30. She showed them into a fussy parlor and left to "see what that girl Jesse could manage at this hour." It was hot in the house and he wished he'd stripped off more of his outerwear before settling in.

The Vice President opened an elegantly appointed bar and selected a decanter full of amber liquid. "Gentleman, I'd like to thank you for the safe escort. Tomorrow I plan to visit with my constituents downtown and reconnect with my people here. After that, I believe my local staff will see to me and you will be free to return to St. Louis. I'd feel selfish keeping you from the work of spreading the cure and gathering a congress any longer than necessary." In the mirror behind the bar Wolf saw Miller tense as Findley began pouring into a row of five glasses.

Burk cleared his throat and Wolf suspected he was about to argue about the idea of Findley continuing without an official escort. "We are still on duty sir, until Chandler changes our orders. And as such, there is no alcohol allowed."

"Oh come now Lieutenant. We are not in a war zone. We are in my house, in my own community. Take the stick out and relax for once." Findley held out a glass, his thinning brow raised.

"Well how about we compromise?" Wolf reached around Burk and grabbed the glass. "I will be on guard duty, because in Australia we trust our sailors to hold their drink, and you mates can take a load off and celebrate." He waved a hand to the kids. "But these two should probably take their grog with water."

The Vice President chuckled. "I think, Mr. Burk, that you could stand to learn a thing or two about about the wisdom of flexing the rules every now and then from Mr. Taylor." Findley passed out two fingers of whiskey to each. Wolf turned so that only Burk could see his exaggerated eye roll trying to convey his understanding that Findley was a rat but they just had to put up with it for one more night and then get on with their work.

"To you fine men, defending your country and the ideals upon which this republic stands." The Vice President raised his glass in an abbreviated salute and then drank deeply. Wolf followed suit. Now was not the time to make a fuss. The sweet smoky taste of whiskey filled his palate but after it burned all the way to Wolf's stomach and had a harsh after taste that reminded him of smoldering tires. Didn't matter if you put it in a pretty glass; at the end of the day the quality of the liquor a man served said volumes in Wolf's book. Burk took a single polite sip and then set his glass aside; Ray tossed his back with a grimace but then sat prissily as if he was afraid to get dirt on the carpet; and when Miller thought no one was looking, he switched glasses with Ray before getting up to join Findley studying a large display cabinet filled with art, photos, and tchckees. With any luck the old guy would drink himself to an early bedtime and they would have a chance to plan in private.

"I would like to go out tonight, find a bar or restaurant, and just listen in, hear what people are saying." Burk looked to the Vice President. "Do you have any idea what might be a good place?"

"I think you fellows deserve a rest, don't you? Save it for morning. I have plenty of business to do so you can hit a few restaurants while we're downtown. People will want to meet you once they hear you are from the Nathan James."

Ray wrinkled his nose. "Do we have to wear suits? I don't do ties."

Burk shook his head. "With all do respect sir, I find it hard to relax and enjoy myself knowing that there are thousand's of people between us and the river who don't have the fuel they need for heat or electricity. Doesn't that make you feel like we need to do something, whatever we can do, right away?" Wolf shared Burk's impatience.

"I'm going to use your restroom. Do I need to be excused?" Ray interrupted, craning his neck to peer out the door. The second wiskey glass now sitting empty on the tiny cocktail table.

"No, no. Down the hall on your left." Miller excused himself as well.

"Pshhawt." Findley shook his head, lip curled in distaste. "These young guys these days are like women going to the bathroom together. I'll never understand Millennials." These young guys are smart, Wolf thought, staying out of a conversation over something they had no say in. Findley sat stiffly in a pale blue wingback chair and poured himself a second drink. "I'm not cold hearted Burk. I feel bad for all those people out there. But spreading the cure and getting Michener the congress he needs to get things running again are our top priorities and we need to focus on those first. What if the MCF makes their move before we get organized? No, let the states and cities handle the local issues while we turn our focus outward."

Burk sighed, although whether he accepted Findley's assessment of the priorities or not, Wolf didn't know. "Tell me more about what we're going to do tomorrow so we can prepare if we need to."

The Vice President described a circuit he wanted to take, first to the hospital, then to the newspaper for an impromptu news conference, and then to breakfast. "After that, people will know we're in town to distribute the cure and anyplace you go you can just say you're there to make sure everyone gets over to the hospital to get in line. And I will go to my office and invite the mayor to appoint someone to take the reins in organizing a statewide election of representation, just like we've done all along our route."

Burk nodded. "I guess there will be a line given that we only have three starters for the contagious cure left." He looked out toward the hall. "I'll go get those guys and we'll start to prepare."

A musical chime had him looking around for a grandfather clock. Did people even have those kinds of things anymore? "Oh! Sounds like someone already figured out I was back in town!" Findley set down his glass and made for the door.

Burk jumped to his feet and hurried after. "Sir? Don't open the door. Let me."

By the time dinner was done Wolf was exhausted. The Findley's apparently ate a very formal dinner in their ornately decorated dining room every night. Once she'd gotten over the surprise of having the Vice President for dinner Mrs. Findley had arranged a full meal of venison in a tomato stew, bread, and salad. She insisted it was no problem for the maid to set an extra place for their longtime friend, Bruce Holcolm. Bruce turned out to be an energy company executive who had grown up and gone to school with Findley. He spent most of the salad course explaining how he and Findley had never gotten along as boys but finally come to respect each other as adults. "I keep telling Dennis to bring his kids to Washington or send them to boarding school so they can shake off the small town a little younger than we did."

Findley waved a hand toward the six kids that made up the far end of the table. "Maybe if our current business dealings pan out." The two grinned at each other like schoolboys pulling off a prank.

Miller and a mildly inebriated Ray kept up a lively conversation with Findley's children about life at sea. After dinner Mrs. Findley watched the maid clear the table and then summarily dismissed them all telling her husband, "Well Dennis, best take the boys up to their rooms now." It reminded him of going to his grandparents for Easter when he was a kid. They'd have to tiptoe through his grandmother's house and pretend they were churchgoers to keep his grandmother happy. Back then his grandfather would do things like hide bottles of rootbeer in their sock drawers and teach them how to cheat when they all played cards at her big dining room table. Sadly, the Findley's house was sorely in need of a mischievous grandfather.

When it was his turn in the guest bathroom he debated how he was going to talk Burk out of trying to go out that evening. But when he got back to the room they were sharing he found the man face down and drooling on the fussy satin pillows. A glance in the other bedroom revealed Ray and Miller were also wiped out. When he had agreed to take the floor, he'd imagined plush carpet. With a sigh, he stretched his legs out on the hard wooden floor hoping they would get enough rest to have limitless energy tomorrow. By morning he was cranky and sore. Not only did the Findley's possess the hardest floor imaginable, but their neighborhood backed up to a train line and it seemed like there was a whistle practically every hour.

Wolf stood at the back of the restaurant and surveyed the crowd with a lazy eye. After so many stops with the President and then Vice President the team had a pretty good routine. This crowd of old ladies and former high school buddies was nothing to worry about. But out of the corner of his eye he noticed Miller slipping through the crowd unnoticed, or rather he trying to. Heads turned and noted his presence and then bent together to whisper about the new guys in town. It probably didn't help that for street clothes he'd chosen to wear all black, right down to his baseball cap. When Findley saw him after breakfast he had cringed and commented that "The urban look isn't really the thing around here." Or maybe they were staring at Ray who selected his clothes based purely on the level of insulation so from the neon orange fur lined toque to the silver and purple ski jacket, all the way to the camo boots he looked like the love child between an ad for Mountain Dew with one for L.L. Bean.

Miller stopped to accept hugs and handshakes from the people he passed with a slightly embarrassed smile but there was a tension in his body that went beyond the usual impatience with accolades and small talk about each person's uncle so and so the vet or great grandma the Red Cross volunteer. Wolf caught Miller's raised brows and followed his gaze to where Findley was hugging his former press secretary, with a hand on her ass. With the paunch and bald spot he didn't look like the kind of guy who would charm the ladies but he supposed you could never tell. No wonder Mrs. Findley was so uptight. The press secretary was the third woman to whisper in the Vice President's ears that she was soooooo worried for him.

The Vice President had held court in the dinner for over two hours now and people continued to pour in. At this rate it would be sometime next week before they were able to get out to the end of the pipeline to see what was going on. Wolf sharpened his gaze but he still didn't see anything to really be concerned about. Diaz had the door and he continued to smile easily at the guests as he let people in and out. He could see Burk, happy to have upgraded their ride to a pickup, surveying the small downtown from a parking spot on the other side of the street.

Miller finally made it beside him, his face still red from the last round of old ladies kissing his cheek and calling him a blessed boy. "You noticing these trains?"

Wolf shifted his stance, leaning around the line of supporters so he could watch out the front picture window a little better, and watched a train rumble by, filled with tanker cars as they had been all morning. He hadn't really paid any attention but he knew Miller had good instincts so he edged a little further behind the VP where he could watch him like a hawk without sharing their conversation. "What about them?"

Miller leaned in, also keeping his voice down. "When we left St. Louis they were up to one or two a day and it's considered a railroad hub. But already this morning I've seen four go by, all full of tanker cars headed west. All full of fresh oil. "

"How do you know they are full of oil?" He wracked his brain trying to think up a way to tell but couldn't recall any placards or or other indication on tank cars to say how full they were.

"Well for one thing, all the trains passing Findley's house had snow on top but it's melted off on all the trains heading west from here. It's not that warm out today. Besides that, they are the wrong kind of trains."

"What do you mean the wrong kind of trains. They are all freight, right?" He looked over to where the crowd of people around the VP had stabilized to about 20, mostly a mix of old friends of the family and local officials. People were chatting and laughing like a Sunday morning coffee hour.

"Yeah, but they are all mixed up. They come into town as Norfolk-Southern, Central-Northern, and so on. They have dirt, grime, and graffiti on them. But every car leaving looks like it just rolled off the BNSF factory line." Eric squinted toward the display windows facing the street. "At least, that's what it seems like. I should probably see a few more before I jump to conclusions."

But Wolf's brain was already jumping to conclusions. The image of Holcomb and Findley toasting each other the night before came to mind, rapidly followed by the memory of the bodies piled on the wharf in Sioux City. Those sick bastards were up to something! "Go out and fill Burk in. Maybe he wants to go out and take a quick drive down the road while the VP is occupied. See if you can find a train yard or something. I think the kid and I can manage this here."

"You got it Senior Chief." Miller nodded and headed for the door.

Wolf watched as he stopped to say something to Diaz. Ray glanced back over his shoulder to Wolf and shrugged. He hoped Burk wouldn't think he was overstepping his bounds by telling Miller what to do. Guarding the VP was important but his intuition said something wasn't right, and he hadn't gotten this far without trusting his intuition.


	10. Chapter 10 - 99 Problems

**99 Problems, Hugo**

"The train yard is closed?" Miller tried to peer past the policeman blocking his view through the roadblock of barrels and sawhorses. "I just saw a train head in there a few minutes ago!"

"Sorry kid." The deputy hooked his thumbs in his waistband and rocked back on his heels. "Only people with official business can go past this point."

"That's what the other guy said." Miller had already tried to get in at the main gate but the men at the chain link fence had denied him. "I'm new in town and I wanted to see if I could get a ride back to Iowa, where I grew up. You know, find out if my mom made it?" His palms sweat at the idea of lying about his mom, but he had seen Burk pull the mom card before and it had worked for him.

"No can do. These are freight trains anyways. Only city or railroad employees past this point. It's a safety thing buddy," the guy added almost as an afterthought.

Miller scuffed his feet and considered how much to dig in. As much as Burk and Wolf seemed to distrust Findley, maybe they were just going to have to ask the Vice President for a favor. This was Findley's home town and he was a railroad man after all. Surely he would want to help. "Are they hiring? What if I want to apply-"

"See that tall building there?" The police officer pointed one gloved finger back the way Miller had come and he assumed the man meant the four story concrete structure that sat at the edge of the business district. Railroad office is in there, hiring's the third floor."

Miller raised his hands. "Ok, Ok. I get it. That big building there, second floor you say?"

"Third floor kid, that's the railroad office."

Ten minutes later he relayed what he'd learned to Burk. "Something's not right here. They've got the whole train yard blocked off and the guys at the gates kept trying to block my view of whatever's going on in there."

Miller chewed his lip while he waited for Burk to confirm his suspicion or remind him that he was an idiot. Finally the other man sighed. "Yeah, I get that feeling too. The VP is sequestered in his office with that guy who stopped by last night. Apparently he took over the mayor's office when the VP ran for the Senate and they go way back. Sees himself as some kind of regional manager now and wants to fill in Findley on how the area is doing." He tapped his comm. "Hey Wolfman, I got a job for you. I'm sending up Miller to take your place." He pointed toward the icy sidewalk. "Head back up there and relieve Wolf. I don't know how long this will take so you and Ray stick with the VP, no matter what."

"What do I do if Findley asks what you're doing?"

Burk rolled his big brown eyes. "I don't know! Tell him we're provisioning or we have to have our regulation time off or something."

"I don't know if I can lie to the Vice President." He shrugged.

Burk shoved him toward the truck door. "Fine, I order you to tell him that we are provisioning. Are you happy?" He nodded. That would ease his conscience.

While Burk muttered something about neophytes under his breath, Miller escaped the truck and headed for the building that held the town offices. A pretty blond woman coming the other way up the sidewalk reached the door the same time he did. She juggled a few paper sacks as she reached for the door handle. "Oh, let me." He began to pull it open.

Her bags crinkled as she stepped back to allow him to open it, then she smiled over her shoulder as she stepped through. "Thank you. You're one of the Vice President's escorts, aren't you?" His gaze whipped up from the exposed skin between the tops of her boots and the bottom hem of her camel colored swing coat to meet the clearest blue eyes he'd ever seen.

"Yes Ma'am." He gestured for her to pass as he stared. A beam of sun passing into the foyer of City Hall made the whispy strands of her hair sparkle. She was even more beautiful than Commander Green.

"Great. "I'm Kristi, Kristi Holcomb. Would you mind carrying one of these." She handed him one of the sacks, which surprised him with its heft, before he even had a chance to respond. "Daddy and the Senator asked me to get them lunch. They are planning to be busy all afternoon."

"Sure, no problem, ah Kristi. I'm, ah, Miller, Eric Miller." He stuttered his way through a greeting. She didn't acknowledge his name at all as she led the way toward a floating staircase of black concrete and polished metal and he wondered if she had even heard him. He tried not to look at her behind as she climbed the stairs a few steps in front of him but it was right at eye level, and so…round. He peaked in the bag to find a 12 pack of fancy microbrew and a few bags of snack food. His stomach growled loudly and he hoped she didn't hear it in the big open space.

Unfortunately for him, she must have the hearing of a bat. "Oh! I'm so sorry Eric. Where are my manners. You guys must be hungry too. Maybe after I drop this off I can take you to Dolly's, where I got these hamburgers? Were you with the Nathan James? I'd love to hear all about that and what the President is doing in St. Louis and everything." Something about her made him more on edge than he usually was around girls. For one thing, girls did not regularly bat their eyelashes at him that way.

"Sorry Ma'am. I've been assigned to guard the Vice President. Can't neglect my duties."

She giggled. "Well then maybe another time."

They crested the stairs and he found Wolf and Ray standing on either side of an office door. Wolf winked at him, a bemused expression on his face. "Let me get the door for you Miss." Wolf gave her a dazzling smile. Well, Eric thought, there went his chances of getting a date for the evening meal.

As she swept through the door he tried to get as much of a glimpse inside as possible. The mayor's office was strewn with maps and sticky notes. The two men inside stood by one map, heads bent together. They looked up as the young woman came in. "Ah Kristi! You can set that on the desk." The mayor directed. Eric felt the man's eyes boring into him as he followed her in to set the second bag down with a clink of glass bottles.

"So you're all here now Private?" Findley peered out the door.

The incorrect rating grated on his ears. "Ah, no sir." The Vice President had hardly talked to him on the trip up there. Instead, he spoke to Burk about "his men" as if they weren't right there in the car the whole time. "I am relieving Chief Taylor so that he and Burk can, um, go arrange provisions." He bit his lip to keep from saying more. He'd heard Tex advise several times to keep it simple.

Findley and Holcomb exchanged a glance. "Provisions? I will serve you dinner at my house again tonight of course." Findley squinted out the window and Eric realized he was looking toward the train yard.

"Yes Sir, but Burk wants to be prepared in case Chandler calls us back the way we came." He hoped that sounded believable.

Behind him, Wolf chimed in. "Burk is such a bloody boyscout."

Findley seemed to accept the excuse. "Very well. You may wait outside." Findley waved a chubby hand absently toward the door. Eric nodded. Somehow, when Chandler, Slattery, or Master Chief dismissed him, he always felt relieved, but this time he felt a little like he was being excluded from a club.

Holcomb practically shut the door in his face. "OK then." Eric muttered. Turning to Wolf he surveyed the small landing outside the office suite. "So we just stand here all afternoon?"

"That's it. No one with weapons goes in, even though I think the both of them are carrying. I'll try to round up some lunch when I can." With another bracing slap on Eric's shoulder he was hightailing it down the stairs.

Once the door was shut Ray leaned against the door frame, his cell phone appearing out of no where.

"You better hope Burk doesn't see that. We're supposed to be guarding." Although against whom, Eric had no idea.

Ray barely looked up. "Welcome to hell. All the free time we want, no one to spend it with." He frowned into his hand as he began rapidly typing a message with his thumbs. "No Jamal, you may not get a tattoo. Dios, the kid can't afford decent shoes so I don't know where he thinks he's going to get the money for that."

Eric chuckled and leaned against the other side of the entry to the office suite. "You're lucky you can even be texting you know. Most of the time we're at sea we get to email once a day. And we only get to text if we're in range of a cell tower and not under any restrictions. It sucks to have nothing to do and not be able to talk with anyone other than the same two hundred people you already do everything with day in and day out."

Ray looked back down at his screen. "Yeah, guess Green had the right idea. Better be grateful for what I have." He returned to his furious typing.

Miller shook his head. "Don't be getting any ideas. In any other circumstance the Greens would have been court marshaled."

Ray shot him a grin. "Do you seriously think I'd try to pick up someone I work with? I may be a common idiot but I'm not that dumb. Besides, I totally can't compete with the guys like you and Burk and Green. I'm just a scrawny little guy."

"Me? I don't think I belong in that group."

Ray shook his head. "Jesus, you are just as bad as Burk. Look around at the competition dude. You came through the apocalypse man. You're a healthy single guy with a bad ass job. You both could be rolling in girls if you tried but you have absolutely no game."

Almost by accident, Eric snorted. Him? Girls had never been interested in him. He used to think it was because he wasn't a star athlete and he didn't have the kind of blond good looks that let guys like Danny Green just pick up the hottest woman in a bar with a snap of his fingers. "Burk says his problem is that he's too nice." His mother always said that the whole myth that girls didn't like nice guys was false, but he sometimes wondered if Burk was right.

"Dude that's total crap unless all you want is to hook up. Girls might be attracted to jerks but in the end, they want guys who will be there for them. No, your problem is confidence. You won't get any bites until you put a hook in the water." Ray winked.

"What does that even mean? I can hardly talk to girls." Eric glanced at the door where the pretty blond had disappeared. He wished every girl was like her.

"That's not true. You talk to Kat and Dylan and Brie and Commander Green and Lieutenant Granderson and all sorts of women all the time. It's only when you start thinking about liking them that you become an idiot."

"Thanks man. I feel more confident already." Not! That gorgeous girl was going to come out of that room any second now with her dainty little jawline and perfectly squeezable ass and smelling like paradise and and he'd instantaneously lose half his brain cells.

"Look, if it makes it any easier, think of it like a mission. You just do whatever you think Wolfman would do in that situation and it will be smooth sailing." Ray winked at him. "Or Tex, I hear he's real popular at Ms. Kitty's on a Friday night."

"Tex? He's awesome and all, but come on, I don't think women really want a guy like him. But Wolf, yeah, they fall all over themselves just to talk to him."

Ray looked up from his texting. "So when that blond chick comes out, say something Wolf would say. Ask her if she wants to meet you at that Dottie's or Doris's or whatever the burger place was called. You're new in town after all and you could use someone to show you around. Maybe she will say something that helps us figure out what the fuck is going on with the pipelines and trains."

He considered it but somehow it didn't feel right. "Don't you think it would be wrong to lead her on like that? I mean, I'm not going to be in town long and she might get hurt if I'm not upfront about that."

Ray sighed and slipped the phone in his pocket. "Of course she knows you're not gonna be around. That's what makes it easy. If it doesn't go well, you never have to see the chick again."

He glanced at the door and lowered his voice. "I don't think Kristi is that kind of girl Ray!"

Ray looked at the ceiling for a moment. "Suit yourself. All I'm saying is that an offer is clearly on the table so if you want it, you just have to go for it."

They stood in companionable silence for almost twenty minutes before the office door opened again. Mr. Holcomb stuck his head into the hallway. "Can we borrow one of you boys for a minute?" Miller met Ray's eyes. Burk wouldn't like this but he supposed he out ranked Ray so he ought to be the one to deal with it.

"Um, sure. Diaz, you can knock and let me know if I am needed out here." As he slipped past Holcomb he wondered how such a large man could have such a petite daughter. Kristi sat at the edge of a leather wing chair, her trim legs primly crossed beneath her, her coat and gloves neatly folded over the arm. Just looking at her made his heart beat faster. He made himself look at the Vice President. "What can I do for you sir?"

"I need someone to escort Miss Holcolb to the bank."

Miller glanced over and realized that she held a metal cashbox in her lap. She offered him a serene smile. "That won't be too much trouble, will it Mr. Miller?" He swallowed hard. No one called him Mr. Miller unless he was in trouble or making an official report. He kind of liked it when she said it in her sweet low voice. He could almost imagine… He realized that everyone was waiting for a response.

Burk was going to hate this. Then again, it might be a chance to figure out what Holcomb and Findley were up to. "Yes, sir. But Diaz will have to remain here." He tried his best to channel Wolf's kind of relaxed authority.

"Very well. Kristi dear will show you the way." At her father's nod she rose to her feet and set the box on the sofa.

"Mr. Miller, could you help me with my coat?" She batted her lashes at him and he once again had the feeling she was acting, not flirting. Maybe he just didn't know how to tell the difference. Still, he dutifully held her coat so she could slip her arms in.

"Miss Holcolm, after you." He held out an arm to indicate the doorway. His mother always said that women appreciated a man with good manners. She kissed her father on the cheek, waved to the Vice President, and headed for the door, leaving a faintly floral wake behind her. He dutifully followed her into the hallway.

"You're in good hands Miss, one of the best." Ray's phone had disappeared and he offered her a wide smile. After she passed he tilted his head toward the cashbox. Eric read the message loud and clear. What the heck was a public official doing with oodles of money on his office?

He trailed the young woman down the hall and stairs, all the while answering her questions about where he was from and how he ended up on the Nathan James. As he held the door for her she asked, "So I suppose after spending months in the arctic this doesn't feel cold to you?"

They turned west and he pulled his coat tighter against a stiff wind. "Well we were there in the summer so it wasn't all bad. Although we did have a few different weeks where it stayed below freezing 24/7. But I'm from Iowa so I can take it." She looked so cute with the fur lined hood of her wool coat pulled up over a fluffy white knit cap. Eric pulled the slightly too short sleeves of his parka down to meet the edges of his gloves hoping she wouldn't notice that his clothing was far less expensive than hers. People were coming in and out of store fronts as they passed and said hello or smiled at Kristi while giving him curious looks.

"I can't wait for summer. You wouldn't think it on a day like today, but it gets super hot here too. There's a lake not far away where a lot of the young people hang out. Daddy has a house there so I spend as much time as I can there." She confirmed his suspicion that like Findley, Holcolmb was wealthy.

"A summer house! Wow. What does your dad do, or did he do before the Red Flu? Is everyone here in the oil business?"

"Pretty much." Her hood shook firmly. "Daddy runs the splitter plant, over there where they have all the tanks." She pointed down the street they were crossing and he could see the tank farm along the railroad tracks, near where the rail yard was blocked off.

"You'll have to excuse my ignorance Miss, but being from Iowa and all, I only know enough to know that those aren't grain silos. What the heck is a splitter plant?"

Her big blue eyes got even bigger as if she couldn't imagine having to explain something so basic to someone. "It's where they split the different kinds of oil products into different kinds of tanks or pipelines. You know how some pumps bring up gas while others bring up oil? Well there are also different kinds of gas and oil which get refined into different products before they get shipped out of here."

"So those fuel lines we saw coming in to town, what's supposed to go in those?"

"Those are fuel oil. They go a long way."

"You mean like gas or gasoline or motor oil or something? It felt like we followed them for hundreds of miles."

"Motor oil doesn't go in pipelines silly!" The sparkle in her eyes almost soothed the sting of her laughing at him. "They are fuel oil, like number 6 and number 2, you know, for power plants and furnaces and stuff like that."

He did know, but he had hoped she'd say more, like that they had run out of it or something. "I guess that stuff is hard to get now, like everything else these days."

She shrugged and pivoted away from him to take a side street, leaving him two steps behind. "No, the refinery is mostly automated and it's the well drilling that takes a lot of human labor. The plant only shut down for about six weeks last fall. We've been up and running since early December, when the last round of the flu tapered off here."

With his long strides he caught up in a few strides, but he'd missed her face during her reply. Did she know the pipeline was shut off? "Oh! I thought the whole thing would be shut off!"

She shook her head again. "It's pretty hard to shut the system off actually. Once the wells are pumping they pretty much go until they run dry. Daddy said it was important to keep things going. He even trained new people to work the plant during the peak of the flu because people need oil. He says it's important for society." Her blind adoration of her father was beginning to take on a darker sense. Based on what she was saying, how likely was it that Holcomb didn't know the effect shutting off the fuel pipeline had on the communities that depended on it?

Her teeth gleamed in a wide smile but he struggled to match her expression with one of his own. "It's true, there have been oil shortages some places that cost many people their lives." It was as close as he was going to get to asking her if she knew the pipeline was actually off.

Her pretty brows creased in a frown. "That's awful! So I guess you've seen a lot of places since you've been back?"

He wondered if she was deliberately changing the subject because she didn't want to talk about negative subjects or to steer him away from asking more about the refinery. "Not too many. We were in the Arctic and didn't even know about the Red Flu until October so it's been a whirlwind experience. Were you here the whole time?"

She turned into the bank and he held the door while she nodded at the security guard. The old building was nearly deserted except for one open teller window. A sign on the bar asked customers to remember that they currently had a ten dollar bill shortage.

"I had just come home from my freshman year at St. Catherine's, Art history major. So yeah, I was here." Her petite shoulders shuddered. "It was horrible." She turned her sunny visage on the teller and greeted her. "Good afternoon Mrs. Kline. I am here with a deposit from Daddy."

Mrs. Kline eyed Eric over the seashell pink frames of her spectacles. "Well good afternoon to you too Kristi. And who is this gentleman?"

Her cheeks, already pink from the cold wind took on a deeper hue. "Oh he's one of the men with the Vice President!" She said excitedly. "Daddy asked him to escort me over here." She held up the cash box and shook it. Eric realized two things in that moment, she had already forgotten his name and the cash box had a BNSF emblem on the side.

"Seaman Eric Miller." He waved to the teller. "Pleased to meet you Ma'am."

She let her eyes wander over his body as she slid out the drawer so Kristi could place the cash box in it. "I'm sure the young ladies are pleased to meet you too." Eric felt the tips of his ears redden but forced himself to ignore the sensation as he watched the bank teller produce a key and proceed to open the box. Apparently this was a regularly occurring transaction. "I'm surprised to see you today dearie. There's some fierce weather blowing in."

Kristi chatted with the older woman while Eric tried to keep his eyes from bugging out of his head. He wished he had his phone in his hand all the time the way Diaz did so he could snap a picture of the contents of the cashbox. He had expected loose money or maybe a few bricks of 100 dollar greenbacks. Instead there were several sheaves of papers and then stacks of small silver bars, about the size of a school eraser. No wonder it had been so heavy! He leaned against the teller counter as casually as he could and tried to cover his action by jerking a thumb toward the door and asking, "How cold can it get out there?"

Mrs. Kline hardly looked up from her counting but Kristi began waxing on about how beautiful Williston was in the summer again. The bars clinked softly as she stacked them up on the counter and entered something fro the face of them into her computer. He managed to count 48 of them so if each was worth a few hundred dollars…his eyes nearly bugged out of his head. Where was all this money coming from when most of the shops and businesses weren't even open? Mrs. Kline began pulling folded papers from the bottom of the box and entering numbers onto her computer. He wanted to get a glimpse but from this angle the monitor blocked the side of her keyboard. What would Wolf do?

He stepped back from the counter a few steps and Kristi's eyes followed him. He looked around for something to distract her. Glancing up, he noticed the ornate plaster on the columns holding up the molded ceiling high above their heads as well as the circular decorations around the bases for the large chandeliers. "I've got to say, I did miss places like this when I was at sea. Everything on the ship is gray and utilitarian. This place makes me think of a bank in my hometown. What would you say those columns are, neo-corintian? Neo-roman?"

Both Kristi and Mrs. Kline looked up, although Mrs. Kline looked highly skeptical. Kristi took the bait. "You know about architecture?"

He took a half step back. The papers Mrs. Kline was holding under her right hand had a purple seal he had never seen before on the top. He'd bet his sidearm that was the new MCF emblem since there was also a round seal ont he silver bars. He glanced back at the ceiling. "Well, I went into the Navy to save up a few years for art school. I took every class available back in my little town." He stole another glance. The signature on the right was definitely Holcolmb's but he wasn't sure about the one on the left. He was sure about the letter head though, BNSF. He needed to get back to Burk. The oilman and the railroad were definitely in business somehow. "I wish all places were as beautiful as this." In a move he remembered Wolf using on Azima, he made sure he was looking at Kristi as he said it. In her first sign that she was aware of him flirting back, she lowered her lashes self consciously.

Mrs. Kline let out a huff as her gaze returned to her computer screen. "Well I personally would like it if the bank decided to come into the 20th century sometime soon. This place is dusty and drafty and," she leaned toward the bars separating the tellers from the customers, "in the spring there are mice, every year!"

Satisfied that he had learned as much as he could about Holcolmb's business, Eric watched Kristi instead. She signed for a receipt from Mrs. Kline, with a heart dotting her final I, and then grabbed his arm and tugged him toward the door calling, "See you tomorrow!" over her shoulder as they left. They spent the walk back to City Hall discussing art. It was pleasurable but the possibility that she was actually aware that other people were dying from cold due to her father's greed had ruined any interest he had in her.

Ray looked up from his thumb typing in surprise when they mounted the stairs to the mayor's office. "You're back! Great. I need a pee break."

Miller rolled his eyes. "I am sorry Ms. Holcolmb. Young Diaz there has no manners."

Her laugh sparkled like the icy limbs outside the window on the other side of the landing. "Oh pish. I'm human too." She put a hand on his chest as she passed between the two men and knocked on the door. The feel of her warm fingers only a few layers from his skin sent goosebumps down his spine, but now that he had the feeling something shady was going on, they were shivers of revulsion. He pasted on his best schoolboy smile. "But if you need it, it's around the corner to your left." She pointed for Ray's benefit. "Mr. Miller, thank you for the escort. I'll see you later." She slipped into the door, barely opening it enough for him to see the roaring fire in the sleek gas fireplace inside.

"Ohh, Miller and blondie sitting in a tr-"

"Shut up and go pee." He rolled his eyes as Ray shot him a goofy grin and trotted off down the hall.

The second he was out of sight he pulled out his own phone and texted Burk. "Holcolmb and Findley up to something that has to do with railyard."

A minute later a text came back. "Wolf has eyes. There are dozens of engine cars here, no goods moving East. And you were right that they are painting the cars. One of you stick on Findley, the other take Holcolmb if you have to. Wolf and I are going to try to find out where they are going."


	11. Chapter 11 - Dirty Side Down

**Dirty Side Down, Widespread Panic**

Burk stomped his feet and blew on his hands to try to warm them through his thick socks and gloves. Shit. He'd thought that after growing up in Chicago he'd learned to take the cold but North Dakota in the middle of a February night was something else. Despite chatting up a few rail workers in a diner close to the railyard that afternoon, neither he or Wolf had been able to figure out how the extraordinary rail traffic and the lack of oil in the cities to the east were connected. Jogging half a mile across town at 11 PM hadn't been enough to warm him up but it did serve to keep him off the radar of anyone tracking the truck they had arrived in.

"Air's so cold I think my nose hair's frozen mate." Wolf's voice came over the speaker in his ear. "And there's definitely plenty of activity at the splitter plant. They've filled four tankers since I got here and it looks like they've got four to go before this train is full, currently headed west." Sonofabitch. Burk wanted to believe that Findley had nothing to do with the heating oil shortage but it was feeling more and more like they would have to confront him about it. He wondered if he should call Chandler. But he remembered how Chandler had said one of his good qualities was getting it done with no drama. He wouldn't consider calling to say he suspected the Vice President of stealing from the American people no drama.

"Sir, can I keep running? I have never been so cold in my entire life." Ray jogged in place a few steps behind him.

"Yeah, come on." The latest MODIS images Val had sent him a few hours ago showed a lot of activity around large red polebarn on the near side of the tracks about a half mile from the splitter plant. He was hoping they could find someone knowledgeable to question around there. He had to begrudgingly admit that she had a good nose for intel.

A few minutes later they stood in the shadows of railcars, shipping containers, and storage buildings at the side of the rail yard. In the dark it was been a simple matter to hop a chainlink fence and then walk up between trains and avoid being spotted by the men guarding the gates. "Alright, our goal here is to find out what's going on, that's it. We don't want confrontation and we don't want anyone to recognize us, got it Diaz?"

Ray tugged his hat a little lower over his eyes. "Yeah, I got it."

Satisfied, he tapped his ear. Can you see the front of the welding shed?"

Wolf's reply was immediate. "Three guys that I can see. The one in camo overalls has been there all night, probably the boss, and two who just wandered in, both in leather aprons so that looks like our shift change. Make it quick will you?" Burk bit back a smile. Wolf was the obvious choice for the recon position on the roof of the hotel one block north, but that didn't mean the man was happy about it. Once you figured in how miffed Miller was that he had to stay behind and guard the VP, the whole team was pissy at him.

"Alright, here we go."

He tucked his earpiece in his collar and then nodded to Ray who picked up a heavy metal loop with a quiet groan. "Couldn't we have chosen something lighter to break?"

"Shh!" He silenced him as they made a wide rounding of the corner so it looked like they had come from the direction of the front gate. The shed was filled with scarred workbenches and metal backstops. Racks of rusting iron sheets and long rods of stock metal were piled against the walls, and one of the guys in a leather apron was busy screwing a nozzle onto a small blue tank.

"What have you got there?" The guy in camo noticed them the second they stepped into the light, but as Burk had hoped, his eyes went straight to the piece Ray held.

Burk nodded and Ray hefted it onto one of the benches, his face relieved when he set it down without crushing his fingers. "Don't know. We're new." He offered as an explanation. "But the guy on track nine sent me to get it fixed."

The older man bent down and fingered the mangled piece of metal. "Bill sent you over with this crap? God, I thought they were desperate for parts yesterday when he was hollering at me for his damn pins to get made, but I don't know what the fuck he expects me to do with this!"

Burk made a show of shrugging. "Don't know. We just took it before he started yelling at us. We're happy for the new jobs but what's the big rush anyway?"

The old timer lifted his greasy cap and scratched at his white curls. "You guys didn't do orientation yet?" Shit.

"Ah-"

Ray saved his ass. "Some problem getting it started. That's why they just gave us odd jobs. I guess we get that tomorrow. I'm Ramón and that's Carl."

The old timer looked them both up and down again before he answered. "I'm Gordon. Either one of you got any experience in metal working?"

"No Sir. But we're fast learners, aren't we Ramón." Ray's head bobbed eagerly, a goofy grin plastered on his face.

"Well shit. I ain't got no time to teach newbies tonight, and goddamn Bill knows that. The rush is that we're supposed to have three trains full headed to Cheyenne by tomorrow and we're running out of tank cars." He turned the rusty metal over again. "Alright. Alright. Alls you can do is give it a shot." He startled Burk by shouting over his head at the burly redhead at the closest workbench. "Jeremy, get set up to work a side frame. You fellas go on an' help him with whatever he needs." He pointed toward the man now strapping a larger tank to the side of his workbench. "I'm gonna have to go have it out with Bill, again."

Burk exchanged a glance with Ray. Once Gordon talked to Bill their cover would be ruined. Ray seemed to understand the urgency and stepped up to the workbench without hesitation. "Ah hi Jeremy. What can we do to help keep Gordon off your back?"

The man pointed toward a darker corner where various carts containing specific equipment were stored. "Heck, you boys might as well be useful. Bring me that squarish anvil, from that red cart there, and set it up by this bench."

Burk eyed him to see what he would do. "Come on Ra-Ramón, this looks heavy." As he almost called the kid "Ray" he wished, not for the first time, that he had the easy going ability to improvise on the spot the way guys like Danny and Tex and now apparently Ray had.

As soon as they were a few steps out of earshot, wheeling carts out of the way to get to the one Jeremy requested Ray began to whisper. "You got a plan?"

"Yeah, get out of here before we get found out."

"Do we know enough to take off?" Ray glanced toward Jeremy. "I'm pretty sure I can fake an injury and need a trip to the infirmary."

"We know they are loading oil onto tankers instead of putting it through the pipelines. And we know they are heading toward Cheyenne. Between that and what Miller learned this afternoon, I think we're good. Now, we're gonna drop this anvil and you pretend it hit your foot. I can haul you off to the infirmary." Ray nodded.

"On three we lift. On three we drop."

Jeremy broke in to their whispering. "You boys ok back there? We got serious work to do here. The big bossman stopped by this afternoon and said this whole crew is gonna get a bonus if we meet this deadline. If you're too girly to get it done, then you go and let someone else step up."

Ray turned toward the center of the shed. "I don't know about this. I'm not a big guy like you two." He waved his hands in front of him like he was going to give up.

Jeremy sucked in his gut and crossed his arms over his chest. "Now you listen here kid. Either you pull your fair share and you get to work or you leave cause I need that bonus to make my down payment on the cure. You hearin' me kid?"

Burk watched as the kid let his head drop to his chest. "Yes sir." He answered sullenly.

"Good. Now you get a move on afore Gordon gets back."

Jeremy turned away and Ray turned back to the anvil. "Payment?" he mouthed at Burk. Burk was just as bewildered.

"Jeremy?"

The man's face was rapidly coloring with anger to match his red beard. "What now?"

"You think we can make enough to buy the cure in two weeks. 'Cause Carl wants to get home for his Mama's birthday at the end of the month and I ain't got no where else to go." Ray asked.

Jeremy gafawed. "You some kind of idiot kid? Workin' as odd jobs fellers you're only gonna get a hundred a day. It will take you almost three months. And that's assuming you don't take no sick days or spend it all in the saloons."

Burk did some quick mental math. Thousands? What the heck were they charging thousands for when all someone needed was a handshake? They laid hands on the anvil for a third time. "One, two, three." Burk mouthed. Together it wasn't nearly has heavy as he'd expected, maybe one hundred and fifty pounds, not too much for him to carry himself. They waddled toward the workbench with it between them. Then he mouthed the numbers again and they let it fall. Immediately he laid into Ray, feeling slightly guilty as he did. After all, the kid did just get them more intel. "Goddamn it Ramón! What did you go and do that for!"

Ray stared at the dirt and mouthed several swear words, dragging his foot from in front of him as if it had been crushed. "Holy Fuck, you damn near crippled me!" He shouted right back, his accent slipping stronger than usual. He had to hand it to the kid, he could really act when he tried.

Jeremy ran over, cussing up a blue streak. "Alright, both of you, out of my shop! Now! I'm not working with guys who are so new they are dangerous." He pointed one heavy arm toward the opening at the front of the shed.

Burk watched Ray wince as he curled his toes back and forth. "Are you hurt." He glared daggers at Jeremy. "If he's lame we're gonna tell Holcolb you're running an unsafe shop and come back here. He and my mom go way back."

Jeremy just tossed his head back and laughed. "Holcomb? That shit might fly at the splitter plant but around here Findley is the boss and if he says he's giving bonuses, well you can bet he's my best buddy too. Now get the hell out of here before I call the foreman to evict you." He snarled the last bit and Burk was reminded that Gordon was going to figure out they shouldn't be there any minute. Besides, his head was ringing with the other man's revelation that Findley was deeply involved in rerouting the fuel.

"Come on Ramón. This is a shit job anyways." He ducked his head and kicked the dirt like a sullen teenager and headed for the door. Jeremy was shouting at the other guys in the back of the shop to stop staring and get back to work before they even stepped out of the circle of light ringing the front of the shed.

As soon as they were in the shadows he shoved his microphone in his ear. "Wolf?"

"Aye mate. You got out of there just in time. Your old timer is coming from the west and he's not alone."

He tugged Ray by the elbow and set off in the shadows between buildings. "Does it look clear back the way we came?"

"Yep, rendezvous as planned?"

"Yeah, but get Miller moving. Findley's place isn't safe."


	12. Chapter 12 - If Mama Coulda Seen Me

**If Mama Coulda Seen Me, Steve Earle**

"Meet us at the planned rendezvous ASAP."

Miller sat in the Findley's pristine kitchen, drinking a glass of milk. It was damn good milk too. That morning Mrs. Findley had proudly reported they were getting it from the dairy across town, raw and whole, like it had been when she was a kid. As she put it, "before the government screwed up dairy with so much unnecessary regulation."

As soon as she was out of the room Ray had of course commented sarcastically, "Just like they had it back when you were welcome to get the shits from any source you wanted."

He stared at the text from Wolf wondering what the heck was up. Findley was in his home office working with the door shut. The Findley kids were all out at some party in the neighborhood, and Mrs. Findley was watching TV. There was certainly no sign of any danger. Still, if Wolf said go, he'd better start packing.

The ringing of the phone jolted him to action. He set the milk in the sink, running cold water into it just in case it didn't get washed tonight, the way his Mama liked. He heard the office door open. Darn, his coat was out there and it was only about 10 degrees out. It would take five minutes for the truck to heat up. He listened carefully as Mrs. Findley paused her TV.

"Well if you insist Dennis. But that boy seems so nice."

Forget the coat. He darted for the back door. He was greeted with an icy gust of winter air but he didn't hesitate, just ran for the truck.

"Miller? What the fuck are you doing out here without a coat?" Findley called after him. He didn't sound upset. Eric turned and waved as if nothing unusual was going on.

"Oh hi. Uh, the other guys decided they were too tired to wait to sober up before driving home and it's too cold to walk. I'm going to pick them up now."

"They're city guys aren't they, not hardy like you and I." Findley smiled. "Come on back in and I'll take you in my own truck. It's got heated seats."

"Oh no sir. It's ok. I will only be a few minutes."

Mrs. Findley appeared at her husband's side and held up a coat for him. He slipped his arms into it and Eric turned back to the SUV. Just his luck, a thick layer of frost had frozen on the windshield. Hastily, he fumbled around under the driver's seat for a scraper.

A jingle of keys from a few feet behind him alerted him to the fact that Findley had moved off the porch. "Oh come on, I insist." For an old guy, he certainly moved stealthily. But he seemed friendly, not upset as if he'd just gotten news that three quarters of the team was out snooping in his business. Eric could just text them on the way and they'd pretend like they really were out drinking.

Sighing, Miller threw up his hands. He'd just have to text the guys on the way. Findley clicked a button and opened the garage. Another click started the gleaming white Escalade parked inside. "Chandler's got so many rules for my safety that I've hardly driven myself in weeks. Don't deny an old guy some fun." He pointed toward the passenger side and Miller hauled himself inside. As he clicked the seatbelt he noticed a pink cup cozy in the driver's side and a black one in the passenger side. He had to hide a giggle in the collar of his shirt. It was hard to imagine the prissy Mrs. Findley driving such an in-your-face vehicle but he supposed sometimes looks could be deceiving.

As they rolled out of the neighborhood, snowflakes the size of butter pats began to fall. "I suppose after five months in the arctic last year you are pretty sick of snow, huh?"

Eric looked up from where he was trying to dash off a quick text to warn the guys that he wasn't coming alone. "Uh, no, I like snow. And it didn't actually snow much up there. It was cold, and there were a few storms, but mostly it was just overcast or foggy." He wondered if he'd had the wrong impression of Findley all along. He'd been fairly quiet the entire trip but he was pretty jovial with his kids and Holcolmb. Maybe he was just shy with new people. Eric understood that.

"Huh, that sounds like Spring where I grew up. You know, I'm from Iowa too."

Eric couldn't remember ever mentioning he was from Iowa in front of the Vice President but he supposed it wasn't a secret either. "Oh yeah? Where abouts?"

"Just west of Des Moines."

Eric was from suburb outside of Ames but he'd spent lots of time in and around Des Moines too. To him Des Moines was art galleries and restaurants, parks, and tree lined streets. "Do you miss it?"

"It's not that different here." Findley waved a hand over the dashboard to indicate the view in front of them. They had turned out onto the main road that connected his neighborhood with downtown, about a half mile in front of them. "Corn, old factories, and more corn isn't that much different than wheat, old chemical plants, and more wheat." He laughed at his own joke.

"I suppose so." Eric shrugged, except he really missed home. "How'd you end up here?"

"Oh I took a summer job scrubbing graffiti off tanker cars and worked my way up. One thing led to another and eventually I was the manager for the entire petroleum transport division. I was looking to move into politics about the time the Bakken became big news so we cashed out and here I am."

He was jealous of the people who seemed to make new roots wherever they were. "You must have grown to love it in South Dakota then."

"Ha, no." Findley barked. "My wife wasn't too happy about the idea but after I put my foot down, well here we are. But it doesn't matter. I spend most of my time in Washington so I don't care." Findley turned off onto a service road sandwiched between the highway and the railroad tracks. The flurries had covered the packed dirt surface without any evidence of tire tracks.

Eric couldn't imagine any of the guys he knew forcing their wives to move to an isolated place while they lived somewhere so cosmopolitan as Washington D.C. Imagine how Commander Green would react if Danny tried to tell her to leave everything and move. He was distracted by the thought when his phone beeped in his hand. Turning it over he saw a quick message from Wolf. "Site B." He swallowed hard. He needed to figure out a way to ditch Findley and keep the vehicle so they could get the hell out of here, fast. Site B was just ahead on the left.

The cell Findley had set on the dash began to chime for an incoming call and Eric lunged for it. "I'll get it, since you're driving." He shoved his shoulder into Findley, hoping he'd run off the road. For an older man, his body was surprisingly muscular and he hardly budged. Eric only succeeded and making the phone fall to the floor with a thud. He jerked the SUV into the next driveway, headlights splashing over the empty parking lot of an elementary school.

"Oh, is there a message you don't want me to get?" Findley's lips curled in a sneer. "You are either the dumbest or the laziest soldier I've ever met. And I was drafted in '67, when being a dumbass lazy fuck was a way to keep alive." A sense of betrayal mixed with shame as Eric realized the entire conversation about home had been a farce. The Vice President had known all along that they were on to him.

He was already unclipping his seatbelt when Findley shoved something cold against his neck. "I don't know what you idiots think you know, but that incompetent Lieutenant has another think coming if he thinks you're gonna screw with my plans." Eric was unceremoniously shoved toward the door. He was about to duck and shoot one arm up to remove himself from the line of fire when Findley unceremoniously shoved him from the car and pavement rushed up to meet his face.

Burk tried to catch his breath as they hid in the shadows of the concrete steps leading up to the front of the elementary school. They had managed to escape the trainyard but during their mad dash Wolf had informed him that their original meeting spot was teaming with railroad guys and they had raced here instead. With the dusting of snow on all the surfaces, their tracks were going to lead Gordon, Jeremy, and whoever else was now suspicious straight to them in a few minutes anyways.

"We need a vehicle. Any word from Miller?"

"Negative." Wolf's breathing made a harsh static on the comm. "He rogered me twice but then nothing."

Burk stepped out of the shadows to peer up and down the street. Across the road was the commercial district they had just come out of. The parking lot of the church next to them was icy and bare and the next lot was covered with scrubby shrubs. It was a pretty ugly view for the school kids who spent all day here. His coat pulled away from the back of his neck were sweat cooled, leaving him with a distinct chill. He was pretty sure the soccer fields on the back side of the school might butt up to a neighborhood, but the overhead lights were on meaning it would offer little cover. "Alright, take Diaz around in the shadows and teach him how to boost a car."

"On it mate." Carleton gave Ray a confident nod in the direction of Wolf.

"Don't you need some cover?" The kid looked nervously at the parking lot where any minute now Miller might show up, or Findley might.

He did, but it was just the three of them so, "Be quick, watch your six, and let's hope I don't."

As the crunch of their footsteps faded off into the dark margins of the field the squeal of tires had him crouching low. He watched in horror as a white SUV careened around the corner and into the parking lot. It swung in a hard circle before shuddering to a stop. A sodium light on a tall pole cast a sharp glare that prevented him from seeing into the cab. But something told him that Miller, who drove like an old lady, was probably not at the wheel. He carefully reached into his jacket for the handgun hidden there and got ready.

The passenger door was thrown wide and a familiar red head emerged, followed a little too quickly by a gangly body. As Miller picked himself up from the pavement, Findley climbed down from the cab. Burk sucked in a breath at the sight of the shiny pistol in the man's hand. After seeing the wide range of wildlife hanging in Findley's home office, he had no doubt the man was a good shot. "Come on out Lieutenant. I know you're here somewhere," Findley called. "And I know you've been snooping around my trainyard. So the gig's up," he sneered. "I'm done tolerating your sissy Navy shit. One way or another you're gonna get out of my way."

He cocked the gun he was holding on Miller. "Now throw out the gun I know you're carrying and get your ass out here. I need every penny I'm making off this deal if I'm going to finance a run against that idiot Michener in two years. And I'm certainly not going to let a prissy fuck-up like you ruin it for me."

He watched Miller wipe bloody palms down his thighs and then cradle his elbow against his body. Miller looked stunned, whether it was from Findley showing his true colors or the fall to the pavement, Burk couldn't tell. But in that moment he was sure he couldn't let this cheating stealing asshole get away with hurting anyone. "What do you want from me?" He faced the concrete steps as he yelled, hoping it would sound like his voice was coming from somewhere else.

To his dismay, Findley zeroed in on his location immediately. "You might as well come out now. Hands up where I can see them. You show a weapon, Hayseed here gets it. Believe me, when your bodies are found on the tracks tomorrow, no one's going to know how it really went down." Miller's freckles stood out even more stark against his skin than usual.

"How can you steal from people this way? You saw the people in Sioux City. They are suffering. People are dying, and you could be helping them." His voice sounded painfully naive, even to his own ears.

Findley barked out a laugh. A man of his age should have looked frail or weak standing in the ten degree night wearing only a ratty parka. But in that moment his thin hair, age spots, and turkey neck transformed into something sinister. "You know what Burk, I'm going to let you in on a little secret. This apocalypse was long over due. For too long we've babied people who can't take care of themselves. As I've always said, mark my words Bruce, one day something will happen and only the toughest few will survive. To those cry babies who can't take care of themselves I say good riddance. In the long run we will be stronger because of it." The Vice President stepped closer to Miller. There was no way he would miss and no way Burk could get a bead on him. His only hope was to keep him talking until Wolf and Ray returned or he was forced to action.

"I still don't get it. What are you doing with all that oil?"

"You are as dumb as this one, aren't you. The weapon first." Findley gestured toward him, sneering in derision while his gun stayed level and steady on Miller.

With a sigh, Burk dropped his gun to the pavement. The sound of the metal probably getting scratched and scarred caused him to cringe but he ignored it, taking a chance to gain a step forward toward Findley. Miller, for his part, stood stock still, watching Findley with a wary eye but Burk hoped he had remembered his training and was watching for moment to spring into action.

"As for the oil, I'm selling it of course. Think of it this way Burk, for every helpless loser along the Mississippi who lets himself freeze to death, there's another on the West Coast living a productive life raising the crops that are going to feed us all next year. The way I see it, the people who live there are simply more valuable to the nation. If it was June and they were planting out here, things might be different. But I can't change nature."

He would have said Findley was crazy but nothing about what he said was actually that far out of line with the things he'd said previously. Burk's stomach threatened to evict the greasy venison Mrs. Findley had fed them for dinner. He should have listened to Alisha's warning but he hadn't wanted to trust her judgment, especially if it required trust Val's intuition. "Are you working with the MCF then?" He stepped a little farther onto the pavement, testing whether Findley noticed he was getting closer.

"Don't push it." He scowled. "My colleagues will be here any second so today is not the day you earn your second silver star boy."

"Your colleagues? Don't you mean conspirators? This is treason you know, all of it."

Findley scoffed. "No, it's not. I am a businessman and a senator and I've been at this a lot longer than you so you can trust me when I say that as of yet Michener has done nothing to prevent me from doing business with the MCF or anyone else. Now, I need you to call off that Aussie before I have to do something drastic."

Burk sputtered. "But you took an oath, the same oath I did, to serve and protect the interests of our country. How is this not in violation of that?" In the distance he heard the squeal of a car engine protesting the bitter cold as someone cranked it and he hoped to God it was Wolf and Ray.

Findley's breath puffed into the cold dark sky with his barking laugh. "Find me a judge who will rule that exporting goods and services, especially oil, is not in the favor of our country. Can you do that?" He barked again. "No, and not just because there aren't any judges, but because in the long run what I'm doing is good for us. I'm shifting the trade balance in our favor. I'm making jobs, giving people lives right here in good old South Dakota. There's nothing illegal about it." He turned to bring the gun to Miller's temple. "Now, it is fucking cold out here and I am not a patient man. Tell your man to stand down so that I can release this one."

Burk's own forehead suddenly felt cold, as if the gun was pressed there instead of above Miller's pleading eyes, his pupils wide and scared in the dim light. Wolf and Ray weren't going to make it here. He was going to have to do something, and fast. Miller moved his lips as if reciting a prayer and Burk was cast back to the helo bay where Ravit made her decision to accept what was coming. He had accepted that the fight was over then, but he wouldn't now. "What about the people of Sioux City? What about those guys who gave us dinner in Standing Rock? I don't care what the laws allow or don't allow. What you are doing is wrong and you know it." He made a last ditch effort to appeal to whatever decency Findley had. "People make mistakes. These are tough times and we all have made mistakes. Michener understands that. Heck, he was even aligned with the immunes before he came to his senses. This thing could be turned around before it goes too far. I don't have a gun now so just put yours down and we can talk. Make this right."

"Fucking Jesus, are all you Navy boys so pure and innocent?" Spittle flew from Findley's lips. "This isn't a mistake, I assure you. I run a business son. The railroad, the oil company, the pipeline, those are all private companies, not public utilities. And we have the right to take our business anywhere we want. So it is you who needs to do some hard thinking because if you don't call your friend and tell him to stand down, this one is going down to the deep dark depths of hell, or wherever stupid kids from Iowa go when they kick the can."

He held his gaze on Findley but the man showed no weakness. "Fine. Then you can let Miller go and we can talk." He clicked his Mic. "Wolf? Hold off at your current position and await further instructions. Do not bring the car near rendezvous A. I repeat, do not come to rendezvous A."

"No worries mate. I'm at rendezvous B waiting for your signal." Burk had to resist the urge to look behind him and figure out where Wolf was hiding.

Instead he nodded. "Just sit tight. This might take a while."

He threw the ball back to Findley. "There. You heard me. It's just us now. So release Miller and we'll talk."

"God, you really are a dumb fucker. Take the mic off. I have no problems doing what I have to do here, and I don't need the shadow of a potential witness hanging over me." Burk rolled his eyes but he pulled the earpiece out. For once he hoped to hell his team was directly disobeying his orders. Wolf knew better, right? "Seriously, giving up your weapon and then calling off your backup. The Navy really has gone to the dogs. In my day we would never surrender," Findley spat. "Get down on the ground, face down, hands behind your neck where I can see them." If Wolf didn't take action soon he was going to die here, with the frozen net of a playground basketball hoop for a grim headstone. Burk felt his blood pumping like liquid lead as he moved as slowly as he possibly could to stall until he was kneeling facing Miller.

"What the hell Findley. You said we could talk." A splash of headlights nearly blinded him but his momentary relief was quashed as a yellow truck bearing the railroad logo in bright orange pulled into the parking lot behind Findley's SUV. Two men in work gear got out, one holding a roll of duck tape and the other a rifle, trained on Burk's chest. It wasn't the first time he'd been directly in the line of fire but what scared him the most was when Holcomb, all shiny and slick in an expensive wool coat and perfectly polished dress shoes, came around from the driver's side. Fuck! His mind screamed. He forced his breath out through his nostrils where it felt tacky, like ice was already forming on the vulnerable edges of his body.

"I don't have anything to talk about with you unless you want a new job in private security. This deal is happening and I don't need any interference. So my cover is blown a little earlier than I expected, that's no big deal." Findley waved Holcomb over. "We've known all along that eventually we'd have to be more upfront about things. I went to St. Louis to get the cure so my workers would stop dying off on me. I never expected Michener to bring me into the fold. That was just a bonus."

"What's going on here Findley? You should be done by now." Holcomb fingered something in his pocket as he spoke. "First you bring the fucking Navy into town, then you let them in on our operation? This is no good my friend." Findley deflated as if Holcomb had sucked his bluster right out of him. Findley might have been satisfied if Miller and Burk were out of the way and he bought a little more time to get his train to Wyoming. But Holcolb wouldn't rest, not until he had squashed all possibility of discovery.

"Tie them up. We can't do this here." Holcomb's men jumped into action. The one holding the rifle on Burk shifted to stand behind him while the other grabbed Miller and began to tape his hands together. The urge to fight back warred with the awareness of the gun ready to blow his brain to bits.

"Do what?" Findley asked. "Let's not get carried away here Bruce. We need to get that train out and then we can let the MCF worry about the rest of it."

"Ha. Washington and St. Louis have made you soft Dennis. Too much time talking and not enough doing. That's why I made you mayor and why I pushed you forward. You've always been better at the fancy talking than the nitty gritty of what needs to be done. But the time has come to shit or get off the pot. If these guys go back to Michener telling him that he's lost South Dakota too, what the fuck do you think he's going to do? He's going to be right back here with another team in no time. No, better to wrap this up clean with something he can't question like an accident. Tragic, but in the end, just one of those things that happens sometimes. Heck, you might be able to ride this to your own presidency. Imagine that, President Dennis Findley, driven by the memory of the brave men who died protecting him to always look out for the average American. Pushing on, taking up the cause for America despite his heartbreak. You'll be branded as less selfish more of a leader than Michener in one fell swoop."

Findley nodded, a new steel behind his posture. "I'd certainly be a better president than Michener. If he really wanted to get America back on her feet he wouldn't be bothering to wait for the states elect new representatives. He'd appoint them immediately and get on with it." He retrained the gun on Miller. "I'd love to throw Michener's failure in his stupid face though. "You sure you won't join us Burk? What about Chandler? He's not some liberal weepy commie bitch like Michener. I'm sure he'd rather work for someone with the balls to make the tough calls."

Miller's face twisted like the sloppy strips of tape wrapped around his wrists. "You talk about leadership like it's about making people follow you. But leadership is all about knowing what and who to follow. Chandler, Michener, Burk, those men would never follow a man like you."

Burk was surprised to see Findley's shoulder's slump again and buoyed by Miller grouping him in the same category as Chandler. Was that how the men saw him? He straightened his shoulders with new confidence. Holcomb came to stand near his shoulder. "Don't listen to that stupid kid Dennis. The only thing he's right about is that he and Burk won't ever follow you. And that's why they have to go. You know I could make you the leader of the free world in a heartbeat."

Miller's face fell as one of the lackey's grabbed him by the scruff and tugged him to his feet pushing him toward the tailgate of the truck. The guy holding the rifle on Burk backed up a few steps, still pointing the gun at his chest, and opened it.

"Where are you taking him?" Burk demanded.

Holcomb just turned a shiny little pistol on Burk. "Don't worry. We wouldn't think of leaving you behind. After all, the only way all four of you can go in one accident is if you're in the same place at the same time. I hear the lake is pretty this time of year but probably not solid enough to drive a truck on. But perhaps you got a hankering to take a crack at it." He laughed at his own joke.

Burk tried to ignore the fact that now he had two guns pointed at him in close range. The grunt probably wouldn't fire but Holcomb probably would. His hope was that the nervous clenching of Findley's jaw indicated he was uncomfortable with Holcomb's plan. Maybe once reality was staring him in the face he wouldn't be able to follow through. "Come on Findley. Are you really going to be able to live with yourself if you allow four cold blooded murders tonight?" He met the man's eyes, challenging him to deny that it would be murder.

Findley shrugged. "You could decide to join us instead. The MCF needs people with skills. I could maybe get you a promotion if you wanted to be my personal guard. Commander Burk sounds pretty good, doesn't it."

"There already is a Commander Burk and he would never give up on the US, never. And neither will I."

"I've had enough of your pussyfooting Findley. He's not going to cave. I knew in third grade you didn't have the balls and I can see now that you really haven't changed." Holcomb turned his gun on Findley. "And you know what, if you're stupid enough to think you can negotiate with these guys, who will turn you into Michener the first chance they get, then I don't think it's safe for me to do business with you either. Now get in the truck and shut up while my men take care of what needs to be done."

Suddenly Burk caught a flurry of motion out of the corner of his eye. Ray was jogging across the field in his ridiculous silver and neon purple ski parka, the reflective strips catching the field lights and winking like a beacon. His shouts echoed in the barren landscape. For a moment it seemed like everything stopped. The man behind him swung the barrel of the rifle toward Ray while Holcomb raised his arm toward Findley. There was only a split second and then Burk found himself launching into the air and wrestling for control of a gun while the deafening sound of one shot and then another rang off the windows of the school. Behind him he heard glass shatter and a loud thud as a body fell against the SUV.

His hands closed around cold metal and he drove the butt of the gun backward, forcing the fingers of the man holding it to twist. The man grunted in pain and kneed him in return. They tumbled over in the snow and cold gritty pavement dug into the back of his head as the larger man attempted to cut off his airway with an elbow. Burk reached up and yanked the magazine from the gun and slammed it broadside against the man's head. The heavy item made a sickening crunch as it connected over the man's ear but he managed to whack Burk in the head with the butt of the gun. He didn't give up and just kept hitting, even as his vision dimmed. He would not let these last few months be the end of his life. He could not leave Miller, Ray, and Wolf out here by themselves. He continued to pound. Finally he got an angle and jabbed with the heavy plastic right under the man's chin. With one final groan of pain the man slumped unconscious.

Burk's ears registered that the panting he heard was not his own and he looked up to see Ray bent over in front of him. "You OK Sir? That was a hell of a leap."

He took Ray's outstretched hand and rose carefully, brushing snow off his knees as he turned to see Miller doing the same. "Wolf must have got Holcomb but not in time to save Findley." Ray explained. "Thanks man."

"For what?" He felt a little shaky but he forced himself to stand upright, gulping big breaths of air and taking in the scene as he did.

"For choosing me over the VP of course. There was a second where I wasn't sure which way you'd go." The kid shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets.

Miller raised his shaking hands, still taped together, to his face where dots of blood added to the freckles. "Damn." He swiped at the blood. The guy who had been about to shove him in the truck lay bloodied on the ground.

"Yeah Miller. That was fucking bad ass the way you slammed that guy's brains in the car door." Ray pulled a face and Burk realized the fourth man lay at Miller's feet. There was so much blood in the snow that it was hard to tell who it came from.

Lights were flicking on in the houses across the field. "We got to go mates!" He looked up but didn't see Wolf.

"He's coming down the fire escape." Ray jerked a thumb toward the far side of the building. "We finally gave up on you moving enough for a clean shot and he sent me to stir things up."

"There's going to be lots of attention here in a second. Let's go!" Wolf jogged across the parking lot toward Findley's SUV. "Get in!"

The red fog in his head had cleared enough that he knew it was time to let someone else take charge. He followed Wolf's instructions, clinging to the handle above the door as they spun around and sped out of the school yard, and he wondered how things would have been different if Chandler had given him the team he asked for.


	13. Chapter 13 - Watch It Burn

In St. Louis, Kat and Kara worry?

**Watch It Burn, Lucero**

It was after nine and Kat just wanted to get back to her room. She had been working on a storyline for Ray's next comic book for the last few nights and now the late hours were catching up to her. She yawned and stepped out of Chandler's office, where she had been updating a map he used to keep track of the teams' progress with the info Kara had relayed at the start of her shift. The Nathan James was puttering through the Panama Canal and Danny's team was in Oklahoma. So far they'd had no trouble with the MCF so she was surprised to see the ashen pallor to Kara's face. "Kara! Is everything all right?" Kat hadn't seen her look so upset since the night the President's escort fought off the rebels in Tennessee.

"You can put Burk's team down for Montana." Kara pulled a box of cookies out of her desk drawer and then held it out to Kat. "After that, call Bacon and have him send up a sandwich platter or something. I need to make a bunch of calls ASAP and then it's going to be a long night."

"Montana? What happened? Is the team OK? Is Ray OK?" She blurted it out before her good sense had a chance to kick in and remind her to be careful what she said. What the hell had happened that they ended up in Montana? "Are all of them in Montana? She had texted with Ray that afternoon and as far as she knew the plan had still been to get the Vice President home, make some contacts for future congress people, and do some observing about the fuel situation.

Kara's weary smile was only partly reassuring given that lines of worry still marred her brow. "Apparently there was some kind of altercation in Williston and the Vice President was killed. They are trying to put some ground between themselves and the town. Burk's going to call in and make an official report in the morning. In the meantime, I need to let people know that we need a new Vice President.

"Well, I guess as guys to lose he's the least troublesome." Kat clapped a hand over her mouth as soon as she said it.

Kara winced. "Was there some problem with the Vice President that I didn't know about?"

Was it treason to disparage the late Vice President, especially since in his role as the entire current Senate, he had been essentially writing her paychecks? Kat looked toward the doorway to make sire no one was around before she answered. "I know Ray thought he was a jerk. And he was pretty sure Burk wasn't too pleased with him either. I believe the phrase Ray repeated was something about having too narrow a view of what an American looked like to serve in such an important role."

Kara nodded. "That sounds like something Burk would say. Sometimes he forgets that if all you know are cities you have a narrow view too. It's just a different one."

Kat nodded. "I'll get the dinner set up and make coffee in the conference room. Is there anything else I can do to help?"

Kara gave a thankful smile and slumped back into her seat. "That would be great. After that you can go. I'm sure that a young person like you has far more exciting things to do on a Friday night."

Twenty minutes later Kat pushed through the heavy courthouse door and stepped into the March evening. The fresh air held a tinge of spring but the damp humidity raised goosebumps on her arms so she stepped over to the large stone balustrades to set down her bag and pull out her pink sweatshirt. She had just finished ducking her head through the neck when the sound of sirens pulled her gaze to the street in front. A cavalcade of five cars pulled to a stop. Men and women in black suits stepped out of the second and fourth cars, quickly flanking the middle car. One opened the rear door while another began speaking rapidly on the radio. Michener stepped out, thanked the man, and jogged up the steps. In his jeans and gray sweatshirt, a messy pile of manila folders under one arm instead of his usual attache case, he looked as haggard as she'd ever seen him. He rushed past without even a smile and disappeared into the building while two men stayed to guard the front doors and the others spread out around the building.

She bent to zip her bag wondering if Chandler was going to be named Vice President before morning. She couldn't think of anyone else more appropriate. And her father had said he had never met a man so levelheaded and fair as the Captain. The train of cars pulled around the block but several men remained on guard at the bottom of the steps. Slinging her pack over her shoulder she trudged the rest of the way down. She began debating if she should hit the mess hall on the way home or just crawl into bed and plan on a big breakfast tomorrow.

"Miss, miss you need to move along!" One of the men suddenly noticed her and gestured for her to hurry out of the way.

"Oh, Sorry, sorry." The guy had a hand over the gun on his belt and he looked quite angry with her so she apologized automatically. But as he reached for her arm to direct her down the steps she felt an unreasonable urge to resist. "Excuse me! I work here and I'm just heading home. No need to get grabby." She backed up a step feeling her heart begin to flutter unreasonably fast.

Her raised voice attracted the attention of the next guy down the steps and he took the steps two at a time asking "Hey Billings, everything ok here?"

She looked up in time to see Lance Gund approaching.

"Lance! Tell this guy that I'm not a threat." The relief she felt at having an ally present was immediate. She really needed to get over being so jumpy around guys.

"She's cool. She works upstairs for Chandler." He waved Billings down the steps. "Take over my spot. The second cavalcade will be here soon."

She gave him the once over. "Are you becoming a secret service agent now?"

He laughed, his perfect straight teeth showing in the street lights. "No..well actually maybe. I was switched to plainclothes officer duty last week to help some of the new recruits who didn't qualify with Green and Burk for admin reasons train for domestic security instead."

"Admin reasons?" She looked over the group. What would disqualify someone from enlisting? This group looked pretty physically fit.

"Yeah, you know like being too young, not graduating high school, having kids that would need care if they shipped out, that kind of thing. We're interviewing people too, especially for the officer training. You looking for a job short stuff?"

She shuddered. "No thanks. I think I have enough going on already. Besides, I don't exactly want to commit myself to St. Louis long term."

"Things going that well with Mr. Eyebrows?" He teased.

She wated to deny it but knew she couldn't when an irrepressible smile leaked onto her face. "Maybe, we'll see. I don't know. But yeah that's a part of it."

He paused, listening to something in his ear piece and nodding. He held up one hand and spoke into the mic on his wrist. "Alright guys, you heard the dispatcher, get ready for Cardinal Noir."

She raised a brow and he shrugged. "The mayor picked his own codename and he's a big baseball fan. Anyhow, I'm glad things are going well for you. Do you need to go far? It's getting late and the streets aren't too safe."

It was her turn to shrug with more cofidence than she actually had. "I'm fine. I just have to go a few doors down. I'll see you around."

As she crossed the square in front of the courthouse she heard a car screech to a stop in front. A huge black man heaved himself out of the driver's seat of a turquoise Prius with a busted headlight. He leaned in to grab something from the passenger seat and there was shouting as a bunch of men suddenly surrounded the car ordering him to back out with his hands up.

Her heart leapt to her throat as she saw Lance jogging down the steps toward where the rotund man stood, hands over his head, ill fitting suit riding up. How did word get out quick enough for spectators to start showing up? "Weapons down, weapons down you idiots. That's the mayor, and in about twenty minutes he'll be the Vice President of the United States."

A chorus of muttered "Sorry sirs." Sounded as two men closed in to escort him up the steps.

The mayor nodded to Lance as he tugged his jacket into place. "No harm, no foul. I understand that you were probably expecting something a little more flashy from the mayor." He tossed his keys to a particularly green looking young officer. "I assume I won't be driving myself anymore. Take the car to one of the rough neighborhoods and park it with the keys in it, unlocked."

"Seriously?"

"Yes seriously." The mayor began to haul himself up the courthouse steps, several guards trailing him. "I was going to give it to one of you fellows for the sacrifice you are making in serving our country, but I'm sure you can understand why I'm not feeling it right now." He marched up to the doors with all the gravitas of a king and then waited for one of the suits to swing it open for him.

Kat grinned to herself. So this was the new Vice President? She liked him better than the last guy already.


	14. Chapter 14 - Cashbox

**Cashbox, Big Head Todd and the Monsters**

Miller wedged himself out of the car and passed around to the trunk. His hamstrings pulled uncomfortably as he took the first few steps. Behind him he heard Ray slam the driver side door. "Why do people even want to live in these cold-ass places. The scenery totally sucks. I swear, if I see one more vista of a single leafless tree against the horizon I'm going to cry until we get to Idaho." In a now familiar routine, Ray took a position a few steps away from the rear of the car they had liberated from an X'd driveway back near the Montana border and began scanning the truck stop. "Did you find them?"

They would be heading into the mountains soon and a few miles back they'd passed a sign that said chains were required in the pass ahead. Eric slammed the trunk. Hopefully they had some inside because he'd come up empty. "Gotta go inside and ask. Stay here; put some gas in; and try not to attract attention."

Ray rolled his eyes but Miller knew he would do exactly as told. If there was one good thing about working with Ray it was that he understood how quickly things could turn ugly. "Yeah, yeah, I got it. He dug in his pocket and handed over a crumpled up five. See if you can get me some coffee, sweet and light. If they don't have that maybe a RedBull. I know you said you could drive in snow but I don't think I'll be able to sleep through that.

"You know it snows in Iowa, like all winter long?" He shook his head as if he couldn't understand where Ray was coming from but at the same time he had a nervous buzz in his fingertips. He could drive in snow alright, but he'd never driven in mountains. One thing Iowa had going for it was that it was practically flat as a pancake. But when Burk had split them up that morning he'd put him and Ray together on purpose. They couldn't exactly expect Wolf to know what to do with snow either and when they had made contact with Chandler, he agreed. "I'm sure they have coffee." He shoved his hands in his pockets and tucked his chin as a sharp gust blew grit and snow pellets into the cuffs and neck of his sweatshirt. Maybe they would have some gloves inside too, although buying them would mark them as outsiders in a second. They had burned their bloody clothes when they dumped Findley's SUV yesterday.

A bell jingled as he pulled open a door covered in dingy stickers advertising cigarettes and beer. Inside the fluorescent lights seemed extra harsh as they revealed shelves that were nearly bare and an empty wall of drink cases. His nose directed him to the coffee pot on the end of a chipped laminate countertop. The only creamer was powdered but Ray was just going to have to suck it up and deal. Glancing out at the lightly blowing snow he poured himself one too. He'd prefer hot chocolate but he could just imagine how the guys would rank on him for that if they knew.

A wirey man with thin greasy hair, maybe 45, maybe 65, peered around a rack of lottery tickets that were about eight months out of date. "Y'all need a fill-up?"

"Yes, yes we do, if you got it." They had packed two red jugs of gas into the back at their first fillup, just in case, but they were trying to get as far as they could without using them.

The man looked Eric up and down. "You two came in from the East. Where ya headed?" On the one hand, there probably wasn't much else to do in this place besides people watch, but something about the way the man asked reminded him of Mrs. Sheedy, the nosy neighbor who always seemed to find an excuse to stop by on Saturday morning, especially if his mom had a date the night before.

"Hoping to make Seattle by the end of the week. You get any people coming the other way? Know what the conditions are like out there?" They named a different coastal city every time they stopped but the answers were generally pretty much the same. Everyone was eager for news.

The man scratched his thin beard and asked a question back. "Seattle? You with those other guys? The black fella and the big foreigner?"

Crap! He didn't know why he felt he shouldn't admit to it, but his gut said to reveal as little as possible. "Nope, me and my friend out there were hoping to get on a ship in Seattle. You know, see the world, before someone tries to make us go back and finish high school."

The man slapped the glass counter making the racks of dusty cigarette lighters and car chargers rattle. "You stupid boy? There ain't no ships in Seattle now. Them cities are dead. Got the flu. No, if you want to live, you gotta get yourself somewheres remote, away from everyone."

"But the cure.."

The man slapped the glass again. "The cure? Don't tell me you're fallin' for that government bullshit. There ain't no cure boy. Only cure is to fall on your knees and pray. That's what's kept me an' my kin alive these past months."

"I've seen the cure."

"Uh un. You've seen God's hand at work. You can't stipulate to that, well then I'm gonna have to say no to the coffee and the gas and what not."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you get down there and pray. And make it good." He gestured to the floor in front of the register. "I' made it this far because I have spent my time wisely, spreading God's word, like he tells me to."

"God talks to you?" He tried not to let his doubt slip into his voice but he knew it was there. Master Chief had reassured him over and over that God didn't care if he doubted, only that he turned toward the good at every chance, but not everyone appreciated forgiveness the way Jeter could.

The man started coming around the counter. "Well obviously you don't spend enough time on your knees or else you'd know that he's there for everyone."

Jesu..Even in his own head he bit the swear off before he could finish. The man reminded him of his grandfather, always believing whatever his pastor told him without questioning it for himself. He had learned at an early age that he couldn't reason with his grandfather and he doubted that he could reason with this guy either. Thank God for the contagious cure though, because one way or another this guy had probably already been cured.

He realized that the man was older than he'd initially thought when he gripped the edge of the counter and began dropping to one knee with some difficulty and Eric felt compelled to reach out and grab him under the arm to assist him. "Sure, sure, I can do that. Then can we have the gas?"

"Git your Mexican in here too. God don't like it when I don't do my duty to everyone."

"He's not Mexican and he doesn't need to be involved." 18 years with his grandfather had conditioned him for a little time on his knees, but he had no idea if Ray could pull it off.

"He does if he wants to buy gas here. Forty miles over them hills to the next station." The man jerked his thumb toward the front door. "Well what you waiting for, get him in here!"

With a sigh he stuck his head out the door. Ray was fiddling with the gas pump, trying to get it to run. "Hey Miller, tell the guy pump three isn't running."

He shook his head. "You gotta come in here and pray with us. It's a requirement to pump gas here." Ray's brows shot high but he put the nozzle back in the holder and came inside without comment.

Eric gestured to the older man. "We've got time for a prayer, don't we Ray?"

Ray looked around the nearly bare store shelves and shrugged. "Sure, Is there an alter or something?"

The older man's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You ain't one of them Mary worshiping Cath-o-lics, are you? I don't know if God will like that."

Ray shook his head up and down slowly but Eric could see the bemused smile in the corners of his lips. "I sure am, but in times like these, every prayer counts, don't you think?" Eric swore his accent was suddenly much stronger.

Eric wondered if his Lutheran childhood would be good enough for the man either. "Fine, just don't go cheating and prayin' to some saint instead." The man bowed his head and began muttering under his breath. Eric wondered how the man managed to hold so still in the uncomfortable position. After hours in the car, his own knees, young and fit as they were, weren't up for this.

After what felt like twenty minutes Ray nudged him in the side and gave a small gesture toward the glass case they were facing. He scanned the stacks of lighters and car chargers but nothing stood out as important. Ray nudged him again and pointed more upward. There were several papers taped so that they could be read through the glass counter top as people checked out. One neon sheet was obviously newer than the rest. It was a map showing one eagle crushing another with it's claws that got his attention. He tried to make out what it said around it but the only thing he could read upside down was "Daily Dose Stations." The old man finally finished his prayer and they muttered a collective "Amen." Ray drew a scowl from the old man as he crossed himself before standing.

"Alright, alright." The man shuffled back behind the counter. "I'm only taking cash."

Ray gathered the coffee while Eric asked about tire chains and paid up. "Hey, what's this deal with daily dosing?" He pretended to just notice the map. In the back of his mind he could recall a map like this one, with an eagle outlining the eastern United States from some textbook or something. But the second Eagle, gripping the first by the neck and heart, conveniently aligned with Washington and St. Louis, sent a chilling message. He scanned the text for clues but it was all about daily dosing locations being set up in Boise and Salt Lake City. The MCF wasn't claiming those cities as part of their territory so what the heck were they doing there?

"Oh some guy comes in every week and asks me to put those up. He doesn't ask nice so I take it down when he goes. But today is the day I expect him to be back so I put it up to avoid trouble. I don't like what they are doing."

"What are they doing?" Ray started gathering up items in his coffee-free hand.

The old man frowned. "Well, my church runs a rehab shelter, you know, to help addicts make a break from their old lives and accept Jesus into their new ones. People are supposed to be clean when they come in but we've seen plenty who show up on our door going cold turkey. So I know withdrawal when I see it. We had a family come in from the west in the thick of it. Mom and Dad were all jittery, full of aches and pains, and the kids, man I felt sorry for those kids sweating out the poison. The only one who hadn't taken the cure was the college aged son. Claimed he'd already gotten it in Memphis and wouldn't you know it, he was fine. There's something evil about that daily cure, mark my words."

Eric gave the flyer one last look. It advertised free food, water, and jobs as long as the participants maintained a daily cure regimen. He hoped Burk had seen it. Because all he understood was that the map made him uneasy. "Now don't you two forget, all you need to be saved is to keep on praying." The man picked up the chains and lead them out the door. "I'll show you how to put them on. The last two guys put them on inside out so I wouldn't be surprised if you find them on the side of the road up there somewhere." He chuckled. "Those easterners always think they know about snow 'til they see our mountains. You don't want to go driving around fast in these and you gotta take 'em off once the pavement is dry."

The minute they pulled out of the station Ray grabbed a napkin and pen and began to sketch. "That blocky eagle has to be some kind of MCF signal, don't you think?" He held up the paper with an approximation of the design on the flyer. "I saw it a few places in Williston but I thought it was some kind of Native American symbol."

"I've seen something like that map before but I think it's been modified by these MCF guys. We need to catch up to Burk and Wolf and see if they think this affects our mission."

By the time they spied Burk peering under his SUV on the side of the road Ray had run through about 15 conspiracy theories and Miller's head was spinning. Could this really be the opening stages of a new Civil War? Was the MCF turning ordinary citizens into zombified slaves? The acid taste in his mouth had nothing to do with the twists and turns of the mountain highway.

He pulled the car to a stop behind Burk's. Wolf was leaning against the back bumper, one leg crossed over the other while Burk stomped around with a tire iron in his hand. "Having trouble?"

"Yeah, I can't figure out how to get these damn things on." Wolf rolled his eyes. "I told you, we should've let that old guy show us how. You know how to do it?" he asked Eric.

"Yeah, we let the old guy show us." Ray was already crouching down next to Burk and swearing about the cold on his fingers. "You guys talk to him about the MCF activities in the area?"

Wolf pushed away from the car to stand upright. "No why?" They filled in the other pair as they worked on the chains and by the time they were done Burk was convinced they needed to report in.

Burk pulled out his road atlas and set it on the hood, opening it to the page with the map of the US. "Do you think you could sketch those eagles on here?" The fact that Burk was taking his fears so seriously should have felt rewarding but instead the knot of dread in his gut intensified. Together he and Ray reconstructed the line drawing atop the map.

"I think we need to talk with Chandler." They stood around the hood while Burk made the call, using his secure sat phone. While they waited for Kara to get Chandler on the line, Eric took a chance to look around. The highway had slowly been rising from the foothills for the last ten miles or so and the vista was spectacular. In front of them, craggy white-capped peaks made it hard to believe it was already the end of March while behind them the plains stretched out in a mottled white, brown, and green patchwork of rangeland and farms. There were no houses anywhere. What could the MCF want with this territory? There wasn't a huge population, the cattle ranches in California and Texas must way outnumber this area, and there wasn't really much oil here either.

Ray nudged him. "Check it out, seven o'clock. I guess that's where all the people are." A dirty scar marred the hillside across the valley to their south west. Ugly metal towers carried some kind of heavy equipment with about 15 cars parked in two neat rows to the side. "What the heck is that?"

Wolf turned and studied it with his field glasses. "It's a mine. Looks like it has a spur to the railroad too. And it's active. There's cars cleared of snow, I can see machinery running."

"A mine? Who needs mining when people are concerned about having enough food?" Burk's voice reflected the same confusion he was feeling.

Kara finally came back on the line and Burk began to relate their findings to Chandler. "What about the mine? Should we check it out?" Burk turned away from them as he argued for permission to investigate what was going on. "Yes Sir. I understand why we need a congress Sir but that may be a moot point soon Sir." After listening for a few more minutes he hung up with a muted. "Will do Sir."

He set the phone on the hood of the car and sighed. "Chandler wants us to hightail it to Seattle without investigating anything. Apparently there's a ship Val has been tracking that looks like it's making port soon. He says that's our new top priority."

Eric's pulse slowed again. Good. He had no urge to face down a bunch of angry miners, possibly hyped up on some kind of drug. The more he learned about this MCF, the more he wished he had been assigned to the Nathan James, peacefully spreading the cure to South America and the Pacific.

But Wolf was scowling. "I disagree. There are strong indications that the MCF is spreading northward, possibly using the rail networks to split the West and East coasts. We need to know what's going on there. Seriously, we haven't seen more than four or five people in one place since Williston and there are at least twenty cars over there."

"I know." Burk smacked a hand on the hood with a dull thud that echoed off the snowy trees. "But my hands are tied. I have direct orders to proceed to Seattle and then continue our mission down the West coast." Miller nodded in agreement. Thank God for Burk's unbending adherence to the rules.

Wolf grinned and reached for the map. "Good thing I'm not technically under your command."

Burk stilled and Eric thought he would laugh the suggestion off but instead he looked back and forth between the mine, the map, and Wolf a few times before he relented and leaned over the map again. "What kind of independent outing do you have in mind?"

Wolf began to trace a route toward the mine with his finger. "So Miller and I could head over this way and pretend we saw it from the highway and got curious and you guys go on to.." He squinted down at the map "Halbashing". We'll do some casual poking and then meet up with you tonight or tomorrow."

The acid was back in his mouth. "Wait, why me?"

Burk patted him on the shoulder. "Do you think Master Chief got where he was by whining out of the tough jobs? Wolf can't drive in snow so you're up. Plus, we all know you can keep your mouth shut when it matters."

Wolf grinned. "Come on mate. You can't be a bad ass if you follow rules like a schoolboy." He winked at Burk, who rolled his eyes.

"Fine, but if there are consequences I am going to come clean and say it was your call." They all knew he wouldn't dream of doing that, but he felt he had to say it, just in case.


	15. Chapter 15 -What a Woman

**What A Woman Wants To Hear, Anderson East**

Ray and Burk continued down the highway from the lookout where they had seen the mine. In the noon sun the dark pavement was absorbing enough heat to become a little slushy. "You think they will be OK?"

Burk nodded curtly. "You don't do the work Wolf does, all over the world, without learning how to keep yourself alive. If something isn't right or he feels in danger, he'll get out of it. Miller too. Kid's got good intuition, that's why I picked you two for this team." It was a surprise, hearing Burk praise him. Most of the time it felt like the guy was annoyed at having him along. That was part of why he'd tried to keep his mouth shut as much as possible. And no matter what Burk said, he knew he was picked for the team because he spoke Spanish and because he'd demonstrated his ability to follow orders working with Danny to infiltrate the Angola prison. Still, it wasn't any kind of skill or intuition that kept him alive back there. It was the team's plan, pure and simple. Remembering Tex telling him that the number one rule was to go with the flow he nodded and occupied himself with sketching out an idea for a new comic and compulsively checking his phone for service.

They made town around noon and Burk negotiated a pair or rooms in a motel beside a fading billboard proclaiming Halbashing the "Home of the Best Prairie Oysters East of the Rockies". The only restaurant in town had shut down but the hotel manager directed them to a little IGA. Burk handed him two sets of keys. "Go pick a bed and try to rest. I'm going to take a walk around and then try to get us some food. Peanut butter and jelly ok?"

Shit. Peanut butter brought to mind Kat asking him to trade sandwiches with her. And then he was lost in a sea of freckles and green eyes and everything he missed from St. Louis. He sighed. At least this place appeared to have two bars of cell service. "Yeah, or cheese. If they have it." He almost didn't say anything but the urge for privacy was too strong. "Hey, I think I'll take a long shower, while I can. So I'll come find you to get my lunch later."

Burk shrugged. "Whatever floats your boat man."

As soon as Burk was gone Ray shut the curtains. The phone rang three times before she picked it up with a breathless "Hello?"

"Kat!" He smiled at the ceiling. "Hi." It had been three days since he'd last talked to her. He wanted to know everything that had happened with her and tell her everything that had happened with him, but first he just needed to soak in the sound of her voice. "You don't know how happy I am that you answered." His shoulders ached with the tension of waiting for her first reply. Every time he called it was the same fear, that she'd tell him she didn't need him anymore.

"Ray! Oh my God Ray! How are you. Are you all right? Where are you? I really miss you!" A little bit of his nervousness dissolved with her words and he sank into the pillows.

"I'm in Idaho. At least, that's where I think I am. We're heading for Seattle."

"And you're OK? I was there when Burk called in after Williston. Chandler hasn't said anything about casualties beyond the Vice President but I've been so worried." Her voice was tight. "Would it have killed you to send an update?"

He chuckled. "Maybe? We were hoping those guys wouldn't follow us. So far we think we're ok."

"Well I bet your news is more important than Gabe's cavity and Sophie's haircut drama and the twin's new plan to start a band."

The twins couldn't even sing happy birthday never mind play musical instruments. Laughing he asked, "Really? I've got to hear about that." So she regaled him with stories of everything that had happened. He wasn't sure if it helped his homesickness to hear that everyone was ok without him or hurt more because everyone really was ok without him, but his longing to be home gnawed at him like a deep hunger. It wasn't like he had never been away from home before, after all, before the flu he spent his entire summer at camp. But he never remembered feeling like he would walk away from the trip if the opportunity to go home presented itself.

He lay on the bed while she talked and imagined her the way he had left her, with her long hair spread out in wispy tendrils all over the pillow. He really didn't know how to do this kind of talking on the phone with a girl. Before Kat, he'd never been in it for the talking. But hearing her voice twisted his gut in just the right way. He turned his head to the side, half expecting her to be there only to be disappointed by the sterile hotel room.

"So, Chandler and Commander Green have been discussing their plans for after Lieutenant Green's team gets whatever it is they need to begin large scale manufacturing of the cure from Albuquerque. It sounds like they plan to have the Nathan James come into San Diego, pick up a full crew, and head to Asia to distribute the cure. So, I uh, I think it's doubtful you'll be home anytime soon."

He had figured as much but still. "I really miss you."

She was silent for a while and then he heard her giggle. "What do you miss about me the most?"

The coquettish tone of voice tickled something deep and he found himself smiling. "Well, it's not the way you're always nagging everyone to clean up their rooms or the way you make it hard to pay attention during PT sooooo…." He trailed off, hoping she got the joke.

"It's my ass. You miss my ass." Well that was true. "I think of you every time I put on my yoga pants."

"What about every time you take off your yoga pants? What do you think of then? Because I think about you taking them off all the time."

"You're so predictable." He imagined her rolling her eyes at him. But he could tell by the lilting giggle that she wasn't offended either. He'd bet he'd made her blush though.

"I'm 18. I think about it all the time. Problem is, I used to have a variety pack of girls in my head in now there's only you." If he had been home he would have been steering her to a bed somewhere. Or a dark corner, or an unused closet, anyplace he could get his hands and lips in touch with her again. But he wasn't at home and it was likely going to be a long time before they could be together again.

"And that's a problem?"

"Well, not really. It's kind of awesome actually." He cleared his throat. "I, uh, hope that isn't too much, to say. You know we never talked about much and I had to go so soon and.."

"I think about you a lot too…" she cleared her throat and lowered her voice. "Especially when I'm alone at night." She emphasized the word alone and he knew she was thinking exactly the same way he was.

He rolled onto his back and let his eyes drift closed. "Oh yeah? Tell me more about that." He glanced at the door. This might be the only chance he got to be alone for a while.

Her laugh hit him right in the gut like a full body tackle. "Ha, you'd like that wouldn't you?" He heard a whistle in the background. "But it's soccer Saturday and I think I am supposed to be the responsible adult here right now."

He sighed. "Another time then. Who's playing? Were Willy and Ethan able to convince anyone else to give it a try?"

He was sure she told him important stuff but while she was talking he couldn't help but remember when they were getting it on in her room back in St. Louis. She had talked a lot then too. Whether it was nervousness are just the way she was wired he didn't know, but now every time he heard her voice he thought about her astride his hips, telling him exactly how awesome it felt to be together with a non-stop stream of commentary.

"And I had to take both of the twins for concussion evaluations the other day. Of course, if one does something the other has to totally try to show up her sister. Anyway, they've gotten way more strict about head injuries since I played. The ref had to go through a whole protocol with each kid and decide if they could go back out on the field."

He had a hard time envisioning her running all over a field wearing shin guards but the little shorts, yeah, he could envision that. "What color was your uniform?"

"What?"

"You know, when you played soccer. I just can't imagine it."

"You don't need to know about my uniform to imagine it. You've seen me running. I'm good at sports. I was my juniors team MVP when I was eleven." She snorted. "But the school team, I hated it. The school colors were red and white but for some reason the girl's teams had to have pink uniforms. My mother told me to pick my battles but I could never stomach it. That was part of why I quit."

"I have a blue jersey you can have." Yeah, he'd like to see her wear that. Now his vision of Kat riding his hips included a silky soft jersey. He nearly groaned as he got harder just thinking about it.

"Ray, are you..? "He heard a car door slam shut and the sounds of the ball field stopped

Shit. His hand stilled in his shorts. He had thought he was being quiet.

"What? Soccer, go on." His voice sounded a little rough even to his own ears.

"Oh, uh nevermind." He felt a small twinge of guilt that he wasn't sharing the direction of his thoughts, but then again, he didn't want to scare her away with too much too soon so he just vowed to keep himself more quiet. "So I mentioned that I used to play to the ref while he was doing the concussion checklist and suddenly I'm a referee for the under 8 team. Which is fine since I am there with Luna anyway." In his head he switched that jersey to a black and white one. The pale skin of her thighs would practically glow in contrast. "I told the guy I didn't know how to do it but he said no one does at first and to just go with my instincts. Apparently they are pretty lenient with the rules for the young groups anyway."

His fantasy Kat arched her back as she stripped off the jersey. Petal pink tipped breasts thrust in his direction as she detangled it from her bouncy ponytail and smiled down at him. "Mmmhum. Go on. I can vouch for your good instincts."

"Very funny Ray. The guy was like 45 with a beer belly so I don't think he was thinking about those instincts." She giggled. "But I do think it's pretty funny that the kids are afraid of me on the field. All I have to do is blow that whistle and they stop dead and pay attention."

Why did she have to say that word? Now all he could think of was her satiny pink lips and the way they looked so delicate but felt so delightfully strong when she was applying them to his skin. He fought to remember what else she had been talking about. Kids paying attention, right? "Estoy seguro de que nadie puede quitarle los ojos de encima." It was the best he could do.

There was silence for a minute and he seized the chance to edge the phone away from his mouth. He stroked a little faster.

Kat giggled, sending tingles straight to his balls. "I can't get home soon enough." He assured her. "I would love to be doing all the ordinary stuff you're doing with you."

"Yeah? I've actually been a little jealous, you know, hearing all the cool stuff you're doing second hand through Kara's office." .

"Getting shot at isn't cool. Plus people out here, they are a little crazy." The idea of Kathleen facing down Findley or Holcomb cooled his ardor somewhat. After the adreneline of the night had worn off, he had realized how close to disaster the whole thing had been.

"What is it like working for Burk instead of Green?"

"Uh, it is different." He thought about how Burk was uncomfortable going against the letter of the law while Green acted like rules were there for everyone else. "I'm learning a lot. Oh, and Miller even flirted with a girl. You should have seen it. It was epic."

"I bet you could teach him a lot in that department. But don't be getting any ideas, I have plans for your evenings that are going to keep you busy for weeks when you get home." And just like that his passion stirred to life.

"Oh yeah?"

"Uh huh. I mean, once you know what it feels like to have someone make you beg for it, doing it yourself is almost too easy, you know?"

"M'hum." Begging was good. The third time he'd gotten her to beg him to put his mouth on her. It had been pretty much the sexiest thing ever to happen in his short life. Wait did that mean that…"Are you saying you've been getting yourself off in the car?"

"Yeah, you had the right idea, this is going so much easier with your voice in my ear."

Five minutes later he slumped back against the pillow. "Holy Fuck Kathleen. You are sort of crazy, do you know that?" He hoped he hadn't scared her off. They were barely dating but his feelings were so intense they were sort of freaking him out.

She laughed like she didn't have a care in the world. "I'm just trying to be pragmatic. What if something happens and I never get the chance to have crazy phone sex in the car ever again? This whole Red Flu came out of nowhere so I know not to bet against the impossible. And seriously, that was awesome."

He pulled the sheet up over himself as he started to drift back to reality. The coolness of the room began to sink in as his pulse slowed and he regained his breath. "How did you know?"

"Well, the heavy breathing tipped me off at first."

"I was trying to cover that up."

She chuckled. "Well you didn't do a good job. Plus, once you really got going you said, and I quote "Oh fuck that's good." She giggled. "Which could have been about any thing but since I was telling you about the fact that the only kind of toothpaste we have in St. Louis anymore is cinnamon it kind of tipped me off."

They chatted a while longer about which of the kids had been convinced to play and how nice it was to gather without worrying about infections. But eventually they were interrupted by someone knocking on the car door. . "Call me again as soon as you can?" she asked.

"You know I will."


	16. Chapter 16 -I'm on Fire

**I'm On Fire, Slighty Stoopid**

As they descended the sloping drive to the mine Miller listened to Wolf explain that while it had been almost twenty years since he'd last visited his dad at work, the essential components of a mine were roughly the same everywhere. "Looks like some kind of hard rock processing is going on above ground here. From the looks of that slag I'd say they are mining for metals." He directed Miller to pull the car into an empty spot between the slag piles and the mine office.

"Great, we're about to get shot for trespassing on a gold mine." The young man tried and failed to disguise his displeasure at being sent on this errand.

"Silver and copper more like. Gold isn't usually mined this way anymore." It had been a long time since he'd thought about such things.

"How do you know this stuff?"

"If I hadn't run away and joined the Navy, I'd own two or three of these back home by now." It wasn't something he told many people.

Miller's eyes widened into the expression he secretly thought of as his hero worship face. The kid had no need for it. He might be inexperienced but even after only a few months working together Wolf knew he was better at this job than he gave himself credit for. "Seriously? Why would you join the Navy then? Your family must be rich."

"Ride one of those elevators a klik down to the active face and see if you don't long for the open ocean too. Come on." He pointed toward the trailer at the edge of the parking lot. "That will be the main office. We'll go in and see what they can tell us." He double checked the knife in his boot and slid from the car. There was nothing outwardly suspicious about the place so he figured they'd go in, ask a few questions, and be on their way.

A portly man in a flannel shirt and knit hat stuck his head out of the office door. "You fellas are looking for work?"

"G'day." He laid on the accent real thick. Nice of the guy to provide him such an easy in. "Me and my mate here are indeed. I need to make some quick cash to get home. I got experience, at George Fisher and the like."

The man frowned. "Well, I only got enough cure to last one more guy through the end of the month. If you know what you're doing, you'd be welcome but yer buddy will have to move along."

Wolf shook his head. "That won't do, will it?" He sighed heavily. "What if we split it, or take turns?"

The other man leaned on the railing. "Don't work that way. You gotta have it every day 'cause it don't stay in your system long. That's what they did wrong at first. They only gave the people one dose and then they thought they were OK but the test guys just peed it out and then ended up getting sick."

Miller stepped up to the railing and looked up at the guy from under his lashes. "I'm a hard worker. Grew up working the fields in Iowa. I am sure I can learn the job quick. What if we just stay until whenever it runs out. You'll get twice the work in half the time. And we'll promise to clear out when the time comes, no fuss, no muss."

The man looked down at him. "Well you are a strapping lad ain't you? I guess we could trial it. But you go when I say you go. Someone comes in who can work until the end of the month then they get your spot, agreed?" He held out one grubby hand and Miller gave it a firm tug. Wolf silently breathed a sigh of relief. While Miller had been talking he'd taken a look around. There was fresh slag on top of yesterday's snow so they really were working the mine. And the license plates on the cars behind him were all the same county except one, implying that they were local.

"You're in time to join the crew for our dinner and get your first dose." The man held out his grubby hand. "I'm Freddie by the way."

"No kidding? I'm a Fred too!" The man beamed at Wolf when he said it. "But I'm actually a Wolfred so best you call me Wolf so that we don't get mixed up." He caught the amused tilt to Eric's brows as he must be remembering their first meeting.

Fred pointed toward a red pole barn on the other side of the parking lot. "You kid, what's your name? You can help me carry the lockbox over there."

Miller caught his eye but Wolf didn't want to risk being caught in any kind of subterfuge so he just smiled innocuously. "Uh, Eric Sir. Eric Miller."

"Well Eric, come up here, but wipe your boots." The man waved them into the office. The lockbox ended up being a cooler with a padlock on it which they easily carried across the slushy parking lot for him. A large purple decal featuring a golden eagle had been stuck on the top and Wolf made a note to check with Miller later to see if that was the same symbol he'd seen at the bank back in Williston.

The barn turned out to be a kind of dining hall. Fred slipped his hardhat off and hung it on a peg by the entrance. "At one point we had over 200 people per shift here, but now," he paused to scratch his newly exposed bald spot "We only have 35 in a single shift. We are having a hard time keeping up but they still need our silver so I guess we stay in business. I heard it was worse out east. Where did you fellas come from?"

Miller kept his mouth shut figuring if Wolf was already doing all the talking, he should make observations instead. The people gathered inside seemed relatively well fed but haggard, like they hadn't had a good night's sleep in a long time. Most were men in their forties and fifties, a few younger guys and one or two women dressed in dirty coveralls and old coats among them. The dining space reminded him of a church social hall with its linoleum floor, long trestle tables, and general lack of decor. "Florida. And yeah, times are tough for survivors in the big cities. A lot of people fled when the water and electricity went off."

"Florida huh? That's where our impostor president was found, wasn't it? You seen him at all?"

Miller's brows pinched. "Impostor president?"

"Well we didn't vote for him, did we? How does a man responsible for killing millions from ruined quarantines end up President of the United States?" He looked to Wolf but the man didn't respond and was instead rewarded with an outpouring of information about how the MCF was gaining a toehold. "This group here, we self quarantined at the mine for almost seven months. We used our heads, didn't come out until someone arrived with the daily cure. And we had zero losses. We could teach that Michener some things about quarantine alright."

Wolf shot Miller a sharp glance to cut Eric off before he jumped to Michener's defense. "So what's for dinner? I gotta say, I'm still growing and I get mighty hungry." Eric asked.

Their escort directed them to the counter at one side of the room. "Go see Daisy. She will set you up with whatever we got today. Wolfred, I think you should meet our foreman."

Wolf steered Eric toward the food line. "While I'm talking to this guy, get us something to eat. And while you're there, see if you can charm the girl into telling us where they get the food from." He stepped away and held out his hand to a heavyset man in a faded plaid quilted jacket.

Eric eyed the young woman standing behind several metal pans with a nervous swallow. She had on denim overalls and a striped thermal shirt underneath. The combination emphasized the round shape and heft of her breasts making Eric's mouth go instantly dry and he forced himself to look elsewhere. Errant chestnut locks stuck out at all angles around her face from beneath a bright pink knit cap. He was pretty sure she had a nose piercing but he was too taken with her big brown eyes sizing him up to focus on it. She would undoubtedly find him completely lame. By the time they had gotten to the front of the line Eric's stomach was growling fiercely and his hands were practically shaking. Silently he cursed Burk. Ray would have been such a better choice for this assignment.

"Uh, hi. I'm Eric." He smiled at the girl. He guessed by her alarmed look it was too big of a smile so he toned it back and stuck out his hand.

She relaxed into a smile too. "I heard. I'm Daisy." She held up a hand and wiggled it, making her oversized food service glove wrinkle. "Not gonna shake your hand though." Her nose scrunched when she giggled. "You guys want some lunch?"

"That depends, does it look as good as you taste." He cheeks flamed. "I mean, I mean does it taste as good as you look?" He shot a look to Wolf. He couldn't do this. His tongue was in knots. Besides, after his close brush with the Holcombs, he wasn't sure he could trust a girl's interest right now.

To his surprise she was laughing heartily and winking at him, her own cheeks going pink. "Either way, you're going to have to taste it to find out." He wondered if he'd really heard his ears correctly.

"Really? Uh… Well I am kind of hu..hungry." He wished he could get it out without sounding like such a dork. He looked down at the serving trays to hide his nervousness. He was surprised to see fresh vegetables and what looked like meatloaf in gravy.

She started loading up a plate with a little bit of everything. "Yeah, you look like a man with quite an appetite." He couldn't remember ever having a girl look him up and down that way. A strange prickle of awareness began to fester in his gut.

"Yeah, say, how do you get fresh veggies? It feels like ages since I had anything that wasn't in a can."

Her brows shot up under her cap. "Really? 'Cause we get them all the time now. They've been coming in our weekly delivery ever since we came back out of the mine. I didn't know it had gotten so bad out there." Eric realized that she must have been here through the long fall when the cities lost their connections to the places that made their food and other goods.

"Yeah, yeah back East there is plenty to eat but there isn't much fresh and the variety leaves something to be desired." He picked up the two plates she set on the edge of the counter and grasped for something more to say. He was sure Wolf wanted more details than that the food was simply delivered. He glanced around at the tables. "Um,"

"Would you mind telling me more about what's going on back in the US over lunch?" She reached for another plate and began arranging a salad on it. "We don't get much news here. Heck you're the first person close to my age I've seen in weeks."

So that explained why she was so bubbly. Eric was a realist. He knew that if there were any other young men around here she wouldn't have the time of day for him. "Sure."

He waited for her to come around through the swinging door with her own plate. She gestured to a long table a little bit apart from the others. "Come over here and I will pick your brain clean while I devour my salad with un-ladylike abandon."

She had a way with words, he could see that. "Are you, ah were you a college student, before, I mean?" He asked as he took a seat opposite her.

"Sort of. I got asked to leave last Spring." She made air quotes around "asked to leave" and his face must have shown his surprise. "Yeah, so I sort of discovered that I have a bit of a green thumb. But then some family shit happened and I was self medicating to deal, and I smoked all my crop. I would have gone back eventually." She dug into her salad without meeting his eyes so he said his silent thanks for the meal and filled a fork.

"I can't believe I'm going to say this, but seriously, I never knew cabbage was so delicious before." He almost wished he hadn't put so much dressing on as the crisp leaves crunched in his mouth. Other than veggies that could be stored like carrots, onions, and potatoes they hadn't had anything fresh in months. "I hope my stomach doesn't regret this later." He realized he'd indirectly talked about farting with a girl but when he glanced up, she was just smiling politely as if he had just said he preferred Italian to Cesar dressing.

"So how about you? I overheard that you guys came up from Florida. Where you in school there?" She held her hand in front of her face while she talked with food in her mouth. It had the effect of making her look like a giggling schoolgirl.

He didn't know what details Wolf might add to the story he was telling about them so he just shook his head and tried to be as honest as he could. "No, No I didn't have the money to go to school after college. My buddy there, I know him from work. But he wants to get home to Australia and find out what happened to his family. We thought we could get on a ship in Seattle. I don't have any reason not to go so, here I am." He hoped that was good enough.

She frowned into her food and he panicked, wondering what he'd said wrong. "Why come all the way up to Seattle? Wouldn't it make more sense to go through Texas or something? Or just wait. They say some of the airports are going to open again soon."

He checked over his shoulder to see what Wolf was doing but he was still talking with the foreman and a few of the miners. "Yeah, but they aren't yet and we don't have jobs." He took the first bite of his meatloaf and almost moaned out loud. "This meal makes my day, maybe even my week." When she beamed at him he amended, "Well, this gravy reminds me of my mother's anyway."

"Really?" She tipped her shoulder modestly but he caught the sparkle in her eye. "You're lucky that you got here today. Meatloaf is my specialty."

"You cooked this? Wow! Where'd you learn to cook so well?" He didn't think girls now a days were all that into cooking. Maybe he should become a miner. Judging by the people talking and laughing together over dinner, it was a lot like the Navy in the sense that they became family.

His elation was short lived. "Here and there. Mostly here. My mother, she used to be the cook here, when I was growing up." She set her fork down. "I was having a hard time at school mostly because I felt guilty about leaving her."

"Was she sick?" Shit, everyone had lost a parent or a sibling or a child these days, but the Red Flu was fast and people were beginning to appreciate that they had survived. Maybe something tragic had happened.

But she shook her head, her chin pointed down at her feet. "No." She sighed. "Well, not like you mean. But she OD'd. Pain killers. It's a big problem out here. I went to California for school to get away from it but I couldn't leave my dad alone here after that." The pointed toward a forty something man in a heated discussion with two other guys. Eric looked around the group. This wasn't exactly what he thought a heroin den would look like. "You're from the city aren't you?" She probed.

"Iowa actually. But not far outside Ames. Don't know that I'd exactly call it the city."

"Hmm." She pushed her plate back and picked up a can of soda, opening it with a sharp crack. "I've never been east of the mountains actually. You gonna go back that way some day?"

"Oh I probably will." He cut her off before she could start asking too many questions about him, picking up his own can and looking for an expiration date. "Say, how come you guys have soda? No one has soda anymore."

She tapped her can to his. "Seriously? No vegetables and no soda? What have you been eating to stay so fit?" Her lashes swept down as she eyed his chest. Wolf had been goading him into daily PT ever since the hand to hand on the Solace and his frame was finally filling out a little more. Maybe it was time to choose larger tee shirts.

He sat up a little taller before he shrugged, as if he got looks like that from girls all the time. "I will never willingly eat baked beans again. It was that and rice, tuna, peanut butter, grits, and I never want to see canned peaches for the rest of my life!" Her eyes widened at the short list. "We've been on the road a while." As if that would explain it.

"And you didn't get sick, out there on the road I mean?"

Gosh she was sharp.. What was he supposed to say to that? "Ah no. We um, we were in a good quarantine until we got the cure." He tried to think of what to say to direct her back to talking about herself. "Sometimes it was really boring. What was it like here in the mine? You still haven't said how you have soda. Do you have a secret Costco down there or something?"

She giggled again and he was fast coming to realize that every time she giggled it drew an answering tightness from his groin. He pinched his lips together. Maybe he should stop with the jokes. But he didn't think it would do to make her feel like this was an interview. "No, but you're really funny Eric. I heard the new Vice President of the US lived out the flu in a Costco. Do you think that could be true?"

"Possibly. Those places have food stacked two stories high!" He didn't just think it was possible. He had spent a week in February helping clean up that very same Costco so it could re-opened as a ration distribution center.

"Well mostly it's just rocks and mud down there. But we do have running water and now a bunch of furniture. We lucked out really. We have a big Fourth of July party every year where everyone brings their family and people from the town a few miles back down the highway come up. We do a giant BBQ and everything. Well we had just bought all our supplies when the order to quarantine came out. A couple of the guys got real worried about security so they decided to do it here. People brought supplies in and we closed the gates. Over time a lot of people went out but no one tried to get in, well almost no one."

"Almost?" The question hung in the air for a a moment longer than was comfortable but she didn't elaborate.

"Anyhow, we did pretty good through the summer. My mother does, or did, a garden up the hill back that way." She pointed toward the window on the side of the building. "And it turns out that my pot growing skills transferred pretty well. And the guys did a fair amount of hunting last fall so we had plenty of deer, turkey, antelope, bighorns, elk, even bear."

He glanced down at the last few bites of his meatloaf. "Is this.."

She shook her head. "No, that's certified prime MCF beef there. Pretty good, isn't it?"

It took a minute to process what she was saying. "You mean they're already regulating the food supply?"

She leaned over the table. "How do you have the cure and not know this?" She slipped out of her seat and came around to sit beside him. He was suddenly overwhelmed with the smell or her flower laundry detergent and the feel of her body, all tense and warm where it pressed against his side. She leaned into his ear. "You're not here to check up on us, are you? Because I can assure you that we only give out the cure to people who work. Well, there was just that one time with Old Man Dennis but the previous case worker already knew about that."

He leaned back so he could see her face. She was serious. "No, I'm not with the MCF, if that's what you're asking. So the cure is only for people who work? What happens to people who don't?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. Everyone here works." He frowned. Something didn't feel right about that. "You have been traveling. How did you get the cure?"

He looked around for Wolf and found him shoveling in his dinner while the men around him asked questions about his mining experience. Guess there'd be no help from that quarter. He needed another distraction. "So I have a confession to make. I've never seen an actual mine. Like not even a quarry. Do you think you could show me, before I totally embarrass myself around those guys?"

She laughed. "Ha, nope. No one goes down the shaft without Billy Jenkins. See the guy in the orange sweatshirt over there? Yeah, you gotta wait for him. He's the safety chief." She leaned back so far that he almost thought he'd need to catch her. "I tell you what. After we clean up together. Then Fred will give out the cure. Since it makes most people sleepy we all have a little siesta. I'll give you a kind of tour then. Unless you get sleepy too."

"Ah no, I don't." He smiled despite his confusion. Most people didn't have any effects from the cure that he'd noticed. Maybe he had been so sick when he took the cure that he didn't remember correctly? "Can I help clean up then? I mean you cooked all this. Maybe I could do some of your chores?" He was sure that's what his mother would tell him to do.

"Sure. Do you get a little buzzed? The doc who first brought it to us said that it can be kind of painful so they have to put some stuff in it to take out the sting. Most people don't mind but I don't seem to get the good side effects."

She showed him where the swinging door led back into the kitchen. As they washed the cookware and put it to rights he tried to catch Wolf's eye. Something was definitely wrong with whatever they were handing out as a cure.

When Wolf came up to drop off his dish he motioned to Eric. "Hi Miss. Thanks for the best meal I've had in a long time. I'm gonna borrow your assistant for a few minutes." Eric wondered if the girl was too young for Wolf's charm-the-ladies smile.

Apparently not because she giggled and shrugged. "I usually do it myself. But do come back soon Eric. I was enjoying your company."

He followed Wolf out to the parking lot. "Dude, you're ruining my game!"

Wolf's face split in a grin. "I didn't see much game there mate."

"Seriously? I volunteered to wash dishes with her and then she said she was going to take me out for an after cure siesta someplace private. That is my game my man." He was rather proud of himself for getting an in so quickly actually. Usually he struck out fast and then got ranked on by the guys for being too straight laced.

"I'll let you in on a secret mate, your game is first-guy-under-25-she's-seen-in-months so you don't have to worry. Winning is in your destiny."

His heart sank. "No way. She's into me man. I could totally tell."

Wolf laid a commiserating hand on his arm. "You know you can trust me not to sugar coat it mate."

His mood fell like an elevator without its brakes. He did know that. The man had saved his life more than once. He could trust him with anything. "This sucks! How am I supposed to go back in there? I was totally buying it."

Wolf sighed. "The bad news is, she's mostly just into your cock. The good news is, you brought it with you. Now get your balls out of your pocket and help me figure out what the hell this daily cure crap is."

"How about I just go hide in the car until you're done?" He'd really bought it. Daisy's come on didn't have any of the artificial sweetness of Kristi Holcomb's offer. He'd thought she was just being herself.

"No, in a couple minutes we are going back in there and I'm going to announce that we've decided to stay on. Then one of us is going to take the cure today. The other is going to be skeptical and wait until tomorrow. After that, we split up. I'm going to try to figure out why the MCF is coming this far north for silver. You are going to use the fact that you've got what she wants to your advantage and try to figure out what the heck is in this daily cure."

"I can't sleep with her if there isn't even a hint that she's actually into me."

Wolf's lips pressed together for a minute. "Look, I get that. But can you string her along enough to find out what the deal is. Burk took a risk sending us here, let's make sure it pays off."

Burk was another person he would trust with his life. "I'll do my best, but I don't have a whole lot of experience at this kind of thing." Or any. He was sure Wolf was aware of that.

"Just be polite and be yourself. And subtly direct the questions toward what you want to know. You'll be fine. I'll take the cure and see if I can figure out what the heck it is. I daresay I have more experience with hard drugs than you do."

"You've done drugs?" He tried to keep his voice low but the shock of it hit him right in his already unsettled stomach. "Seriously?"

Wolf's eyes crinkled with laughter as he clapped Miller on the back and then steered him back toward the cafeteria. "You should see your face right now mate. You really gotta get over the hero worship thing. But really, I only meant that I have been injured badly enough to need the strong meds more than a few times."

He nodded, trying to look more confident than he felt. "Uh, yeah. Yeah OK. I can do it. What did you find out so far?"

"Well, they are all super proud to tell me how they cut a deal with the MCF to supply them with the cure, food, and supplies. Plus the MCF is supposedly putting top dollar in their bank accounts. Of course, they can't actually access those accounts right now. I asked them if they had tried to negotiate for cash but they said what's the point in having cash if there is nothing to buy with it. Apparently the MCF requires some kind of service to the greater good in exchange for receiving the cure."

"Sounds like slavery to me."

"I know, me too. But when I pressed them on it the older guys got real defensive, telling me I don't know how hard it is to negotiate with them. Maybe you could find out how they are convincing people that they need their version of the cure."

He looked up to see Daisy waving them back inside. "Come on! It's time."

Wolf punched his shoulder lightly. "Go get her Tiger."

When they came back into the meeting hall everyone was lined up again and Freddie was standing over a pile of hypodermic needles. "Come in, come in new friends! Don't be shy. Now what we do here is that everyone takes their dose and goes and has a nap. Then we go work an evening shift. The next time our contact comes around we're going to be way ahead, right guys?" The small group erupted into cheers and clapping.

"Now since you guys are new, you can go first." Freddie waved them up to the front.

Eric eyed the needles laid out on the counter. He might say he wasn't scared later. After all, he'd been one of the brave first volunteers to take the cure. But when he eyed that unknown concoction his palms began to sweat. "Uh, I probably shouldn't take it twice, right? I had a dose this morning. Wolf didn't get one, ah because he was driving right after."

Freddie looked back and forth between the two of them for a second and Eric felt his pits begin to run. Damnit. Just believe me! He tried to project his most innocent farm boy look. "Oh! Oh that's great then. A dose saved is a dose earned!" Freddie fumbled with the keys to the cooler and locked away one of the syringes. "Very well. So I take it you're a sleeper then?"

Wolf began rolling up his sleeve. "Yeah, yeah we both are. Makes it tough but if we keep on a different schedule, well then one of us can drive."

Freddie grabbed a piece of stretchy rubber tubing and wrapped it around one of Wolf's tanned arms. "Alright now. After this, Jimmy and Bob," he nodded to two of the older guys, "will show you where you can chill." Eric tried not to hold his breath as the needle pricked beneath Wolf's skin. After all, he probably should be acting like he saw this every day. But a little squeak escaped him anyways.

Daisy grabbed his hand. "I don't like needles either. How about you hold my hand and distract me next?"

Wolf nodded and stepped to the side. "Miller's a good guy for that Miss. He's alway been a reliable mate."


	17. Chapter 17 - Heart of Gold

**Heart of Gold, Neil Young**

Freddie jabbed the needle into Wolf's arm. Miller tensed, wondering if his friend would suddenly keel over. Memories of the trials came flooding back. For him, the uncertain moments between the injection and the beginning of the fever had been the worst. Well next to looking over and finding Maya had slipped away. Now after so many months of fighting and then clearing neighborhoods it was hard to believe he had ever found one freshly deceased body so creepy. Wolf thanked Freddie and untied the rubber tubbing. He was handing it across the table when his eyes shot wide with recognition. Miller filed it away to ask about later.

The line moved quickly and a new hush fell over the dining room as the miners took their doses and them filtered out to various midday resting spots. Many squeezed their eyes shut or tilted the heads to hide their expression but just as many thanked Freddie and slumped to the benches. Wolf tilted his head toward Daisy as she accepted her dose. Time to get to work. He held out his hand to her. "I'm all set here." He whispered, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that he wasn't taking the cure.

Her hand slid into his. "Good, let's go enjoy it before it wears off."

"So the cure feels good for you then?" He didn't remember feeling anything other than extreme anxiety when he received it.

She began tugging him back out into the parking lot. "Of course! You don't think so?"

He shrugged. "Maybe what they were handing out where I was had a different ratio of ingredients?"

"So you got all the nasty side effects? Were they bad?" She looked back over her shoulder. "I'm glad we're getting official doses. A few families refused to sign the work contracts and left us. But after a week of taking the stuff they give out to other people they came back. Every single one of them said they puked after every dose."

She held open the door to a large shed. Inside a bucket loader and a four wheeler sat on concrete pads while various smaller pieces of equipment cluttered the walls. A big tabby cat lifted it's head with a soft purr and then readjusted it's sleeping position on a wide beam filled with hooks and nails holding ropes, chains, and other tools. A narrow angled ladder, not unlike the ones on the Nathan James, led up to a small loft. "My brothers and I used to play here when we were kids." Her hips swung as she took the rungs. "I usually nap up here because it's so quiet."

He followed her lead, crawling into a dark recess. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light shining in from the eaves he realized that they were crawling toward an old mattress laying under the peak of the roof at the far end. Colorful pillows and a flowered bedspread also adorned the place. She patted a spot beside her and flopped down. "That's about it for me. I have no energy left. Just gonna lay here and feel lucky that I've been saved in such a world of cosmic beauty." He tried to tell himself not to be alarmed by her slightly slurred words. "Plug that cord in." She waved idly toward the end wall and he found a cord dangling down the rough framed wall. He had to feel around to find the outlet. Two strings of Christmas lights filled the small space in a magical glow. Photos of flowers, trees and a few wildlife shots were taped up on the ceiling. "Isn't it great?"

She grinned up at him with such an earnest look that he couldn't help but grin back. "It's beautiful. Really."

He lay back beside her and she instantly cuddled up beside him. "Do you mind? After the glow I'll be more fun, I promise." She smoothed her hand over his chest as she yawned. "You make me feel safe Eric."

"Ok." He could hardly get more out than that, afraid he'd embarrass himself and burst out with his entire awkward and unsuccessful sexual history to explain why he was so uncomfortable. While that might have helped him advance his experience with her, it would not achieve what he came here for. "I'm pretty tired too."

He wrapped an arm around her back and just held her there. "Mmmmeels 'ice" she murmured. "Meds are working." He stayed frozen, frantically wondering what he ought to do. He'd never lain next to a woman and he'd certainly never had one put her head on his chest. He liked the weight of her there, like a hug that never ended. He occupied his time trying to figure out the photos. Most were nature shots, in black and white, shot closeup with the background out of focus. A few used special effects like a darkened background or deliberate overexposure to add to the drama. There was only one portrait. It featured a man in his young twenties wearing a plaid shirt. In black and white, the stubble that darkened his jawline was especially dangerous looking. Realizing it must be someone important to her, maybe even a boyfriend, he felt a little like he was trespassing, although whether it was into her personal space or some other guy's territory, he wasn't sure. He sighed and closed his eyes. He just needed to figure out why the MCF was all but enslaving people. No need to worry about some guy who wasn't even around.

"You have any siblings Eric?" He hadn't even realized she'd woken up.

"Nope, my mom wasn't even married."

"So you're all alone in the world?"

"Not exactly." It killed him that he still didn't know about his mom but he hoped she'd made it. Being close to St. Louis, the cure had gone out to Des Moines right away but so far there hadn't been any news. "I've got my buddy Wolf. He's like an awesome big brother."

"That's my cousin, Matt, and he's my best friend. He left about a month ago to work with the MCF." She sighed. "He's the one that bought me the camera and encouraged me not to give up on myself when I dropped out."

"You took these photos?"

She shifted against him in a way that drained all the blood from his head. "Yeah. I was an art major, before I dropped out. I don't have much time for it now but I will again someday."

Finally, something he felt comfortable talking about. "You're very talented. Tell me about the one with the dandelion fluff. How did you get that one?"

She shocked him by rolling to straddle his hips as she reached over his head for the photo. He gulped and willed himself not to lose his control. "Well, I was experimenting with exposure for a while so I used some old paint to make myself a dark box and then set up a series of still lives. I was especially proud of the dandelion though. It was one of the last flowers left in the fall and I dug it up to bring into the box. I must have shot thirty or forty different trials and then I got this one." She ticked the edge of the photo with her finger. "I think it's my favorite." She frowned. "But I haven't been able to recreate anything like it, as much as I've tried."

He found himself laughing. He was almost amazed that he could laugh with the surging mix of lust and infatuation coursing through him. "Well, perhaps whatever was right for the dandelion wasn't right for your other subjects."

She leaned forward and began unbuttoning his shirt. "Spoken like a true artist." The feel of her fingertips grazing him through the thin cotton of the tee he wore under his flannel was electrifying. He knew he should stop her but he didn't have the will to do it. Like Wolf had said, she was old enough to know what she was getting into. "What is it that you do, or did, before?"

He heard her words but she was walking her fingers down his chest to his abs and he couldn't really form a response. He winced as her fingertips pressed a little too hard on one of the bruises left on his torso from the fight back in South Dakota. "Oh, did I hurt you?" She began rolling up the hem of his tee shirt. "I am sorry. I didn't know you were hurt."

He reached for her hand to stop her. "No, oh no I'm fine." But at the first feel of bare skin to bare skin he stopped protesting. The heavy feeling of blood collecting in his loins intensified but he was transfixed by the bursts of pleasurable tingles emanating from the contact points between her fingertips and his skin.

She slid back onto his thighs a little. "Sit up. Let me see." He sat up obediently and let her slip his flannel off and then push his tee up over his head. She settled her palms on his shoulders. "Lay back, let me see." When he settled back onto the pillows she gasped. "Oh, it's beautiful!"

"My bruises?"

She leaned forward and kissed the mottled yellow and purple bruises on his left side but he could see she was eying his right shoulder. "No, the star. It's gorgeous."

He smiled, both because her kisses brought a nervous buzz to his nerve endings and because it had been a long time since he'd gotten any compliments on his art. "Thanks. I designed it myself."

Her eyes went wide with surprise and she traced the outline of the compass rose on his shoulder. "You drew this? So you're an artist after all!"

He shrugged. "I dabble." He wanted to lay there forever and enjoy the feel of her fingertips running over him but the memory of Burk and O'Connor taking him for the tattoo after his first deployment reminded him that he had a purpose. Somehow he had to get her talking about the MCF again. He tried to figure out a way to get her to talk about it.

"So why'd you pick something nautical? Des Moines isn't exactly an ocean town."

She was biting her lip studying him and it was all he could do not to pull her down and try to kiss her. Instead he sighed and hoped he could turn this around to his favor before he lost his will. "I couldn't afford art school so a buddy and I went to the east coast out of school. Worked fishing boats for a while, trying to save up. But it wasn't meant to be. I spent my money on this for example. When Wolf suggested working our way across the country in order to save up to go down to Australia, I decided what the heck, I'd go too."

She frowned. "So you're not planning on staying?"

His conscience kicked back in. It wouldn't be fair to lie to her, to give her false hopes. If they were alive, what would his mother or his grandfather back home think if they found out he'd conned a woman into thinking they could have a relationship? He wouldn't be able to look his mother in the eye after that.

"We're not. But we've just gotten into MCF territory and I guess we need to figure out how the system works a little better. We can't go without eating or having the cure all the way there. Have you ever heard anything about people buying the cure?"

She shook her head no. "I only know how it works here. About three months ago we heard about the President arriving in St. Louis with the cure so a couple of the guys volunteered to go into Boise and find out what was going on. They had to take a snowmobile into town and then they joined a plow convoy so it took a few weeks for them to get there and back. By the time they got back the MCF had already sent us a representative. He met with Freddie and a few of the of the older guys and they struck a deal to get the cure and food in exchange for our silver." There were so many ways they could have accidentally encountered the contagious cure from the MCF representative, in Boise, or from people stopping in search of work. It galled him to think that the MCF was taking advantage of Dr. Scott's brilliant cure.

"So they bring you food every week?"

"Yes, a truck comes and we get ration boxes. You never know what you're going to get though, kind of like a farmshare, so it's good that we pool our resources. Some weeks I've had to be very creative." She wrinkled her nose. "There was one week where we had butternut squash for every meal! But the last few weeks it has really improved. I assume because some things are coming into season down south. The men have done a little hunting and fishing to help out as well. I am hoping to replant my mother's garden this summer, although I am not actually a green thumb. But I guess I'll learn."

"And you don't pay for the food because you work? What about kids?"

"Kids under 15 get food if their family works. At least that's how it is for us. I don't know about other places."

He tried to memorize everything she said. "Other places? You don't think it's the same everywhere?"

"No, the MCF guy always makes it sound like we are special. I don't think they are helping many people outside the territory. The van that brings the food is empty after we unload and the guy always jokes about getting a large coffee to go to take him all the way back to Salt Lake City."

That confirmed that the MCF weren't trying to claim this territory, same as in South Dakota. They just pulled the resources they needed right out from under the US's nose. "So why you? Why are they coming this far out of their way to feed you?"

"The silver silly. Silver very rare you know, especially the high grade stuff we have here. The ore we produce barely needs refining." She nodded her head like a scolding schoolteacher. "I don't think there are any other mines in operation right now. We wouldn't be either if we'd lost Mr. Howe or Ted B. No one else knows how to do their jobs so we probably would have had to shut down. As it is we lost bunches of people with specialized skills so many of the crew are wearing more than one hat."

"Well, you are certainly lucky it worked out so well for you. What would you be doing now if the MCF hadn't come?"

She grinned. "I'd be doing the same as you, running away someplace, like the beach. If life is going to be so shitty, it might as well look pretty while it's doing it." She leaned down and began kissing the edges of the tattoo. "You know what I mean?"

The hot press of her lips was destroying his brain cells. That must be why he couldn't think of anything beyond "mmhmm."

"We better hurry. Once Ted E. is up and moving, he'll blow that whistle and then it's back to work. You'll get your first taste of the mine!" She bounced in his lap and he nearly groaned out loud. He did not want to go down in that mine if he could help it but if Wolf said they needed to, he guessed he'd suck it up and do it. She wiggled a little lower on his legs to kiss his abs. "People either love going down or they hate it." She kissed the ridge of his erection through his pants. "I bet you'll love it." He looked down in time to catch her grin as she reached for his fly.

"How do you know when it's time to go?" There was an embarrassing note of panic in his voice.

She paused, a puzzled tilt to her brow. "Are you trying to slow me down?" She rose back up on to her heels. "Because I'll have you know that a lot of guys have said I'm really good at giving head. I don't care if you don't want to return the favor We can fuck later instead."

He cringed. "You don't need a lot of guys. You're too…"

Whatever she thought he was going to say, the scowl that appeared on her lips was enough to convince him that it was definitely the wrong thing. "Oh, you think I'm slutty now? Geez, just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I don't have needs, you know. You don't know what it's like, going months without having someone to hold, or kiss, or ride good and hard." Her lower lip began to tremble.

"I do, I do know!" He'd never had such an uncomfortable conversation in his life but he couldn't let her cry. "Trust me, sometimes we were at sea for months and there's no women and no privacy. I understand when it gets so that you start fantasizing about every character you see on TV and that still isn't enough."

That mollified her a little and she began stroking her hands from his shoulders to his waistband. She might have meant it to be just a friendly caress but he was panting. "You don't know bad until you're eying a balding 36 year old guy who chews and thinking that if you could just just get him to brush his teeth before-hand, you might be able to tolerate it. After all, the rumor is he's well hung." She laughed at herself "That probably makes you think worse of me."

"No, not at all. You're just human. But don't waste yourself on that guy, or me, or anyone else that doesn't love you."

She tossed back her hair and grabbed it in one hand before leaning down to kiss him again. "What I'm talking about has nothing to do with love. But it's sweet that you think so Eric." She nibbled her way from the side of his jaw to his lips. As she settled her body atop his, he found himself reaching to steady her, more out of habit for how you treat a woman than anything. She deepened the kiss and moaned into his mouth when he slid a hand into her hair. He could certainly see the attraction of kissing. Every nerve in his body was at war with his head right now over whether his reluctance to follow along was worth it or not. After all, she'd just admitted out loud that she knew very well this wasn't about love. But he'd never done more than kiss. She was grinding against him and he was getting an inkling of what it might be like to join with her and it was more intimate than he'd ever imagined. How would he let her take him inside her and then walk away in a few hours?

Still, when she sat up and removed the hooks from her overalls and then slid her shirt over her head he didn't protest. She wasn't wearing a bra and he itched to feel the soft skin of her breasts. He wondered what their delicate pink tips would feel like in his mouth, what she'd taste like. So he went along when she lifted his trembling hands to her chest. The press of her nipples against his palms sent an electrifying jolt through him. Almost as intense as when she gasped in pleasure and arched herself against his hands. "Can't you feel how good that is?" She ground her hips into him again and he began reciting a nursery rhyme in his head, just the way he'd learned in health class back in high school. It had worked against Mary Beth Hopkins after prom, he had faith it would help him resist now.

But he completely lost his will to resist when she pulled him up to sitting, still across his lap herself. With the delicate skin of her breasts right in front of his face he couldn't deny the fact that he would not be able to stop himself if this kept up. He lowered his head and took one in his mouth, sucking lightly to test the effect. Her "Fuck yeah, I need that." Only egged him on to slowly squeeze the other nipple in time with his ministrations. His brain was going blank, subsiding into a dim impression of soft lights, cozy pillows, and the fine texture of her skin. She smelled faintly of green apples and daisies, the combination driving him to a hardness he'd never felt before. He was sure that by the time he stripped, his dick would have an impression of the button on his jeans on it.

She reached down between them and began to undo the button. "I can't wait to feel you. All of you." But her comment turned to a groan of despair as a whistle sounded from somewhere across the parking lot. "No, no no no no!" She tipped her head up and contemplated the ceiling. "Not now!"

"I'm sorry." He didn't know what to say. The whistle was bringing him back to reality, back to the fact that there were forty or so guys who thought of her as a little girl or kid sister in close proximity. His dick shriveled at the thought of what they might do to him down in that mine if they had half an idea of what was going on in this loft.

Daisy grabbed her shirt and began to re-dress herself. "Tonight, after dinner. I am promising you the fuck of your life." She grinned at him as she passed over his discarded clothes.

"You don't have to do that." He shrugged into his shirts. Chances were they would be gone by then. He followed her back to the meeting room, knowing his bright red blush was going to take a while to subside.

"Come on. I'll help you get some PPE." She walked down the wall of cubbies and stopped in front of one labeled Brendan. "This guy left us early on so I doubt he's coming back. You're about the same size as him." She handed him a pair of yellow coveralls and a small basket holding gloves, hard hat, and goggles. "Well most of you that is." She winked and pointed him toward where other people were layering on gear. Wolf was holding a set of orange coveralls similar to his and there were also guys in bright blue and white. "You can join my dad's team. He's the yellow foreman." She gave him a little shove toward a group of guys in similar yellow coveralls. "Now go work hard and you can have your reward later."

As soon as she rounded the wall that separated the hooks and cubbies from the eating space he tried to get Wolf's attention but the older man was busy putting on his gear. With a resigned sigh Eric started putting his on too. It seemed to him like a confined space where they were reliant on other people might not be the safest place to be as US spies but he would trust that Wolf knew what he was doing. After all, he'd had several chances to let Eric die and he'd never taken them. When the miners began filing out the doors they both hung back. "Are we going in?" He whispered, looking apprehensively at the towering metal structure that supported and powered the elevator.

Wolf shook his head without answering and then nodded toward the cars. The men lined up and four got in the elevator. Freddie was in the first group and he waved toward Wolf as he clipped himself to the safety line. "Come on guys. Don't be scared. We've never had a serious accident since we modernized back in eighty four!"

"Eric's a little nervous." Wolf called back. "We'll watch a few rounds descend before he gets on." Turning to Eric he whispered. "If we go down there we'll have to work the full shift. Best to get out of here now."

Freddie's voice echoed back up the hole as the elevator began to drop into darkness. "Suit yourself!"

It took several minutes for the elevator to reach the bottom and then several more before it returned to the top for another load of people. Wolf kicked at his boot just before one of the guys tried to wave Eric to an open spot. "Come check it out. It's less freaky than you think. Heck, with all the colorful safety equipment we have now-a-days it sort of makes me think of Disney World!

"How far down does it go again?" He didn't have to act; he really was reluctant to get in that elevator.

"Only about 450 meters." The guy waved a hand dismissively. "Have you been up the Empire State Building? It's like that, only going down."

"Um, I better wait for the next car." Another guy filled the open spot and down it went again. Some of the older guys still waiting began to tell stories about their first times in the mine.

"Back in my day, we didn't have all this safety equipment. On my first time down a guy fainted and fell against the brake. We got stuck hanging with 500 feet of nothing below us while they rebalanced the load. Remember when we had to do that Herb?"

"Yep, I think you had to throw out those pants Gary. Listen you got nothing to worry about kid." And then it was just him, Wolf, Daisy's father in his yellow jumpsuit, a second miner, with a suspiciously bald head and mouthful of chew, and the guy operating the elevator system. Wolf signaled toward the older of the two guys left waiting. He was probably about 50 and wiry. Shit, she was going to think he was such a jerk. First not taking what she offered and now punching her father. He eyed the other guy but he was very muscular with about fifty pounds on Eric. He was also holding a pick axe. He sighed and nodded to Wolf. The whirr of the elevator changed to the upward sound and he knew they only had a second to act. Wolf went for the axe right off, grabbing the head and flinging the thing as far as he could before the guy even realized what was happening. Daisy's father dropped the small bag he was carrying and barreled toward Wolf, forcing Eric to intercept him with his shoulder. The wiry man was stronger than he looked and shoved Eric back with surprising force. His first blow caught Eric by surprise in his left ribs, where he was already bruised. "Motherfucker!" He'd never sworn like that in his life but damn his already bruised ribs hurt like hell.

He saw the axe guy go down hard after a kick to the chest. "Look, just let us walk out of here and no one else gets…" Eric ducked as the wiry guy threw a punch toward his jaw. It grazed his temple instead, leaving him a little dazed.

"Thats right you fucking fakes. You're not robbing us on my watch." He landed another pounding fist on Eric's shoulder. "Should have gone with my instinct and told you to leave a few hours ago when you were talking to my Daisy in the lunchroom."

Where the fuck was Wolf? The other guy had gone down, couldn't he help him? He whirled away, hoping to find the car ready and waiting but all he saw was Wolf wrestling with the elevator operator. "Dude, we're not trying to rob you. I just decided I can't go down in that hell hole." He backed toward the parking lot but the wiry guy just followed. "Just let us go."

"No way. You owe us a day's work. What are we going to say when we're a dose short, huh? What then? How about if you left your brat in her belly? We need every ration we get you know."

Fuck. He was going to have to hit this guy, and hard. He really didn't want to. Daisy was going to be hurt that they had just taken off in the first place. Now she was going to think he was a whole other level of jerk on top of that. He tried to diffuse the man's anger. "Seriously, I don't want to have to hurt you. And I didn't touch your daughter." Well, not too much anyways.

"You think that you can just come in here, eat our food take our cure and then go? I don't think so." The guy lowered his head and barreled at Eric again. This time he was ready. A well placed knee held him off followed by a swift upper cut. The guy dropped to the ground in a rubber boned slump.

"Getting better Baby Bird." Wolf winked from where he was dragging the elevator operator toward a shed. "Help me get them in here where at least they won't freeze before they come to." They dragged the men inside and then stripped off their mining gear.

"This mission kind of sucked, you know that?"

"Yeah, let's get going so we can pick up the other two and be well armed just in case these guys some after us." Wolf tossed him the keys. "Did you find out what we needed?"

Eric slid into the drivers seat, still reeling a little bit from the busy morning. "I think so. I'll tell you about it on the way."

Daisy pushed open the front door, a confused squint on her face as the car passed. Eric's cheeks burned. She must be thinking he was some kind of total asshole now, and she didn't even know the half of it. "Awww. Your first broken heart left behind. Like I said, you're learning Baby Bird. ' Wolf chuckled to himself.

"Dude, it's not cool. She thinks I was too chicken to go in the mine. Or even worse, she thought we were going to hook up and all I did was use her for intel! I feel like such a chump!" He took the turn onto the main road a little too fast and his sore shoulder slammed into the side window. "Motherfucker!"

Wolf began to laugh. "Don't feel so bad. Eventually she'll see a stamp or a coin or something with the faces of the six on it and she'll realize she almost got it on with one of the most bad ass virgins ever. She'll have a great story to tell her grandchildren."

The pieces suddenly connected. "Coins!"

"Yeah man, you six risked your lives to save the world. Kids will be collecting quarters with your face on them someday."

"No, coins! That's why the MCF is coming all this way for the mine. I didn't see it at first but Daisy said they get a special high grade silver from the mine that needs very little refining. I bet they are making their own coins!"


	18. Chapter 18 - Amarillo By Morning

**Amarillo by Morning, George Straight** **

Kara walked into a scene of chaos in her office. Three dozen paper file boxes she did not recognize were piled in front of the banquette that held the coffee maker. Kat was kneeling in front of another stack with a sheet of label stickers and a notebook. Chandler was on the phone with someone in his office but her phone was ringing too. She called out a greeting, "Hello, glad to see the place held together during my doctor's appointment."

Val stuck her head out from under the desk, several sizes and colors of cables hanging around her neck like some kind of bizarre techno themed flower lei. "Oh hey, good thing you're back because I am just about done here." She gestured toward the small table behind Kara's desk where three monitors and several small boxes with wires coming in and out were set up. "And we're all eager to see new baby pictures!"

"What the heck is all this stuff?" She began unwinding her Navy blue scarf and hung it on the coat rack. "I need my computer this afternoon. Chandler wants my help preparing a recruiting memo ASAP."

Val pointed toward a laptop half under the jumble of electronics. "I got you covered Worry-wort."

Kat glanced up over her shoulder. "These are the files on China from the SecDef's office at the Pentagon that Chandler wanted brought here. We're going to just catalog what's here, label it, and then store it downstairs in the secure archive, out of your hair." Kara watched as Kat shoved a heavy box to the side to access another, grateful that she didn't have to lift them. She flashed her a thumbs up as she grabbed her own phone. "Commander Green speaking."

"Commander Green this is Lieutenant Burk calling to make a status report." Kara smiled gratefully as Kat passed her a pen and memo pad. "Go ahead Lieutenant, I'll take your report. Chandler is occupied, but if need be he can call you back."

"Actually, I'd rather give my report to you Ma'am." No matter how long she'd been in the Navy, it still felt strange when a good friend Ma'am-ed her, especially one who had been a friend as long as Burk. He began to fill her in on their suspicions regarding the fake cure. The good news was that it still didn't appear that they were being followed.

"But the further and further west we go, the weirder things get. We've only found the one senator back in Iowa and we managed to lose another along the way. We could go south from here, meet up with Danny's team in the southwest somewhere. Maybe head down the west coast?" He sounded so discouraged that she felt compelled to reassure him that Danny's team wasn't doing much better.

"Danny has only found one too, a Senator Price. She was at a ranch in Texarkana that once belonged to her grandparents. If Danny's team hadn't noticed lights powered by her generators, from the highway, they would have never bumped into her. I think Michener is beginning to come to terms with the fact that there just aren't that many senators that survived. We already know that Washington D.C. was hit hard with the Red Flu, and early too. But even if a few of the senators have survived and returned to their home states, they could be anywhere. "

"I suppose so." Burk conceded. "I still wish we'd been more successful. I don't know if I'm up for what we might find in Seattle."

She knew he must be thinking of his brother's ship and wished she didn't have to ask him to go there. But Chandler had made it very clear that identifying who was tracking the President was top priority. "We're still sending your team to Seattle. Remember those mystery messages? We know they are coming from a ship that has been traveling a triangle in the Pacific between Seattle, Hawaii, and Anchorage. We've tried to make direct contact through multiple methods but they haven't responded. Chandler wants you guys to go find out if they are friendlies and if so, why they haven't reported in. By my calculations, they are due in Bremerton in 4 days."

"What's the approach on this? Do we go in quiet and find out what we're dealing with before we announce ourselves or make it clear who's knocking on their door?"

"Findley's betrayal has Michener spooked. On top of that, the new senator, Price, claims no intelligence ever came to her about any other ships with parallel missions to ours. So we are totally blind here. Find out as much as you can before you reveal yourselves, but at the end of the day, the priority is finding out why this ship is tracking Michener, who they are working with, and if they are friend or foe."

"Roger that."

A mourning pang struck a chord in the center of her chest. She was conscious all the time of how much she missed Danny's presence, and she had expected that, had even resisted getting involved with him because of it. But now that her closest friends were also away on missions, she couldn't believe she was longing for it to be August again, when she, Burk, Alisha, and the rest of the crew had been tucked away safely in the Arctic, doing their jobs and having a good time, all in one place. She stalled on hanging up when her friend was so down. "Oh and Burk, I'm supposed to relay you a message from Michener as well. The Lakota delegation has arrived in St. Louis and are sitting with him to discuss their agenda. They have been very complimentary about their entire contact with you and your team. He's very pleased with how you represented yourself. I hear through the grapevine that there might be an official commendation for this mission."

There was a pause at the other end of the line and she wondered if Burk was going to do his usual modest "I just did what anyone else would do routine." But when he broke his silence he surprised her by saying, "Uh, yeah? Well, maybe someone should pass that award on to Diaz. He's the one that warmed them up asking if the reservations in North Dakota were anything like the ones in Nevada and Utah."

"Diaz? Why, does he have some connection out west? I thought he was from Florida?"

"Yeah, he is. But didn't you know he and Tex's daughter are a thing? Kid's got more game than the rest of the team and he's only 18!" Burk moaned in her ear.

"Yes, I knew they were involved with one another, or at least thinking about it. They make a cute couple." Out of the corner of her eye she saw both Kat and Val pause and eye her warily. She turned toward her coffee maker and pretended to take inventory of the supplies but she could still feel their eyes on her back.

"Well apparently Tex's ex-wife was from some tribe near Tahoe." She recalled large purple tracts of land on the maps from Val's research showing where someone who spoke Paiute might be from. The southern edges definitely reached Tahoe. "Diaz told us he had to haul Tex home from Miss Kitty's one night and he was talking in some weird language. Tex's girl said it was some kind of Ute language." Kara's jaw dropped. Tex? It couldn't be Tex. He had saved her life! He had saved Danny, Burk, Miller, Ravit. Stunned, she stared at the package of Styrofoam cups in her hand thinking of all the signs she had missed, the excursions away from the teams, the lack of details about his previous service or specific skills. They all knew he was a smooth talker but he'd been especially focused on Rachel right from the start. He had been on the trip through the midwest. He knew almost everything.

Burk was still telling her more about the team's activities, no idea that he'd just outed the spy they had been trying to identify since January, and she almost missed it when he said, "They are definitely using heroin, or something like it, to make people receiving the cure come back over and over. They're even giving it to kids."

"Wait, what? They are giving heroin to kids?" That certainly jerked her attention back.

"Yeah, they are militant about ensuring everyone gets a dose every day. Wolf's the one that called it. We've rigged up a few syringes with saline to fake it if we have to." His words hung in the air before her like a black cloud. Danny's team was down to three doses of vaccine. They couldn't afford to waste any on themselves as a disguise. She felt her chest tighten with each breath as if her lungs were overfilled balloons.

She fumbled through the end of the conversation, mind racing as she watched Kat finger her way through files, many of them loaded with classified information. If Tex was the culprit what did that mean for Kat? And the MCF was creating addicts on purpose? It just didn't compute. Five minutes ago she had been on cloud nine. Her baby was healthy and strong despite everything they had been through and life in St. Louis was becoming more normal day by day. Five minutes ago she hadn't been questioning whether the man she'd come to think of as her child's stand-in uncle was spying on the President of the United States. Five minutes ago the people on the west coast were unknowingly being conned, probably for economic purposes, not being drugged into obedience. By the time they hung up she was gritting her teeth.

"Kara!" Chandler's smile was wide but he shot a narrow glance toward the door she had just shut. Right now Kat and Val were probably staring at the door open mouthed because she had hung up the phone and told them to leave the boxes, and go find her some dark chocolate. She didn't care if they had to barter her car for it. "I'm on the phone with Lieutenant Green's team right now. They will reach New Mexico tomorrow. So far, they've encountered no resistance."

"That's great Sir."

His frown deepened at her downcast voice. "Is everything all right? I think we're done here. Would you like a moment to talk to Lieutenant Green alone?"

"I would Sir, but unfortunately this is more urgent."

"Is there an attack I don't know about?"

"No Sir."

"Is Burk's team able to continue on?"

"Yes Sir."

"Then take a minute for yourself." He held out the receiver. "While you can."

She sighed and placed it to her ear, turning away to stand in the large window facing the river where morning light streamed in. But she didn't get the sensation of warmth, rather a cold, empty longing to have Danny home and by her side. Flutter gave a petulant squirm in her belly. "Hi, it's me."

"Is everything ok? I got those ultrasound pics you sent about 15 minutes ago. He's really growing like crazy now, isn't he!" Danny's voice was one half nervous and one half excited.

"Yeah, the baby is fine, a little cranky with me because I haven't had my morning snack, but just fine."

"I'm sorry you have to go to your appointments alone. You know I live for each update you send." The sincerity in his voice, thick with emotion, was undeniable. And despite her worry, her lips curved.

"I know." Conscious of Chandler just behind her, and that technically this call was part of the official record she assured him, "We'll have you home long before he's born."

"So what is it that has you worried then?" She filled him in on the the new information about how the MCF was using heroin to make their fake cure injections addictive. "I have no idea why they want to tie people to them that way or how they are possibly getting enough drugs, but we know they are based out of El Paso. El Paso and Ciudad Juarez used to be the center of the illegal drug trafficking for the entire west coast so I would assume the source is somewhere there. You know that's not all that far from Albuquerque. You and your team need to prepare for possible encounters with them. Be safe Danny."

"Always." His strident voice was only partially reassuring. "This intel helps. We'll see if we can't rig up a few fake does like Burk did, just in case. Don't waste your time worrying about me. I'll be fine." She wished they were alone and that she could tell him what she'd just learned about Tex. Danny believed in the power of positive thinking. He would remind her that he supported her and that whatever came of it, it was important to get the truth out there.

"Alright, I'm going to hold you to that Lieutenant." She signed off and let Chandler give his final orders. The team would skirt El Paso tomorrow and try to set up a safe base for themselves in Albuquerque by night time.

Chandler hung up and returned to sit behind his desk. "Now Commander. You are as stiff as a board right now and from what you just told Green, it sounds like we have a new development. Sit, and tell me what you think we should do about it."


	19. Chapter 19 - Much Too Young

**Much Too Young To Feel This Damn Old, Garth Brooks**

Vince was at the farm for three weeks before they found him. He'd assumed that eventually someone would come looking but he'd hoped that if he kept a low profile he could put it off until this MexiCali thing was straightened out.

He spent his days rifling through files in the barn office, which was filled with ledgers and records of the farm operations going back to the 1940's when Debbie's father had bought the place after coming home from Normandy. He spent many hours skimming the records before deciding that he had no stomach for farming. It seemed like half of the years the farm just barely broke even and the other half were either devastating losses or, in a rare year, overwhelming profits. He would take his steady federal pension over that kind of stress any day.

He was scraping mud off his boots and planning his dinner when he caught the motion at the edge of the woodlot out of the corner of his eye. He pretended he didn't see it and ducked into the house. His boots probably left clods of dirt all over Debbie's well worn wood floors but he ignored that as he raced up the stairs to grab the rifle he'd lift by the gable window. Focusing the scope, he trained the barrel toward the area where he'd seen the flash of something an unnatural shade of royal blue. Sure enough, a truck was pulling out just on the other side of the line of trees and heading back down the narrow road toward town. He scanned the area around but didn't see anyone there.

"Could be nothing." He told himself quietly. Except he didn't believe that for a second. The only reason to stop was if you had business with the residents and in this case Debbie had assured him that she didn't have any one who would bother. Plus, whoever it was had gone to ground pretty quickly when they knew he'd spotted them. He scanned the edge of the trees and brush separating the field in front of him from the road. There were no footprints. They knew enough not to leave evidence of their presence too. Plus, they had chosen exactly the same location to scope out the place that he would have. He had to assume they knew exactly who they were looking for.

He spent the night in the chilly attic room but no one returned. Instead, when they showed up at dawn the next day, with a sharp rap on the front door, he was already fully dressed and prepared.

He opened the front door a crack, a wedge already in place to keep them from forcing it farther. "Can I help you?" A black sedan was parked in the drive, as if this was a call from a bank man or sales guy. The scents of rich earth, decaying cow manure, and wet leaves rushed in.

"Vince Gurz- ah Gurz-in-zin-sick?" The man on the other side had what Vince liked to think of as the CIA clubhouse look, blue shirt and boring tie, office slacks, fleece jacket to ward off the cold. But there was a sharpness to the way he scanned the room behind Vince as they talked and a carefully calculated stance with one hand on the doorframe, inches from where a knife was strapped to his belt just out of sight.

"Gryzcynczk." Vince corrected him figuring if the guy already had his real name, instead of one of the half dozen aliases he used, there was no chance of throwing him off the scent with a fake. "Who's asking?"

The man leaned into the house. "Can I come in and talk?"

Whoever he was, if he knew Vince's actual name he must have been official at some point in the past. And he seemed too confident. "Bring your guy from the back door around first and then I'll decide."

The guy cocked his head to the side. "I don't have a guy.."

Vince rolled his eyes. These straight laced guys always thought they knew everything from the day they graduated. "Of course you do. There's no place for cover out here and my vehicle is on that side of the house. You either have eyes on the back porch or you're an idiot and not worth my time."

The man sighed and pulled back his cuff to speak into a smartwatch. "Horne, can you please come to the front porch."

"Knock when you're ready to try this again." Vince shut the door before the unsuspecting man had a chance to respond.

While heavy footsteps crunched through the icy snow at the perimeter of the house Vince double checked the gun holstered under his arm. "Sir?" Good, the backdoor guy was an underling. This pair ought to be easier than the team that tried to kidnap him from his marina back in September and certainly easier than the high level operative he had to dispatch a few days before he met up with Debbie. He used to be able to recover from injuries like dislocated shoulders in a matter of days but now… Well his neck still didn't feel completely right.

He swung the door open, a very nice Glock he'd pilfered from Butch Foster's collection aimed at the boss's forehead. "Gentlemen! Now that we're all here, you may remove your weapons and come in." The pair immediately began to unburden themselves without argument. He paid careful attention to the locations they didn't empty. Clubhouse man left the knife on his belt and also never went into his boot. The grunt still had something in a shoulder holster under his jacket. It was nothing Vince couldn't handle.

"Come on. I'll put the coffee on." He led the way into the kitchen figuring that if they were there to outright kill him they wouldn't have knocked politely. "If you're asking me to come back into the fold and work for you, you might as well go now. I'm busy enjoying my retirement these days."

Clubhouse took the seat facing the coffeepot while the grunt took the one Vince regarded as Debbie's. That left him the choice of sitting to the side of them, or taking the head and being sandwiched. "How do you know we're here to try to get you to come active again? You don't even know what agency we're from."

Vince gave a dry laugh. "Almost doesn't matter which one you're from, I've been in a lot of folds."

He set the Glock on top of the fridge and took three mugs off of the row of hooks under the counter. "I should warn you, this is unpasturized, but it is fresh." As he set the sugar bowl and cream pitcher in the center of the table he nudged the shoulder of the young guy just to see how he'd react.

The guy jerked his shoulder away as if he was expecting the sting of a blade through his flesh.

His suspicious gaze swung from Vince to the pitcher. "But you don't have any cows here."

"Instead of watching me from the road you should have talked to my neighbors, maybe gone downtown to see what I've been up to. The main street grocery started selling fresh dairy from across town a few weeks ago." He hid his satisfied smirk behind the rim of his own mug. Mr. Clubhouse scowled. Whether it was from the implication that Vince was better at their job than they were or that fact that he had managed to stay standing, maintaining physical advantage by leaning against the long kitchen peninsula, it didn't matter. The man had to know he'd been maneuvered into a corner already. "Now, why don't you tell me who you work for so we can begin the part of this meeting where I regale you with tales of my glory days and why I would never work for whoever it is again and then you can go on your merry way with plenty of info to write up a report about this little visit."

Clubhouse adjusted his tie, clearing his throat before beginning. And that was when the grunt made the fatal mistake. "Well, we can guarantee you've never worked for our employer before." If looks could kill Clubhouse would have just committed first degree murder.

Well, well, well. "I'm not interested in anything, and I do mean anything, your employer has to offer." He set down his cup and pushed off from the peninsula. There was only one person active in North America with enough clout who could claim that. "You are right, I have not worked for him before. But he worked for me once upon a time and I can assure you that whatever he wants from me, I want no part in it."

Clubhouse shifted in his seat like an eight year old boy on a hard church pew. "He told us we didn't have to ask." The grunt's ears were blazing red but he also bit his lip nervously. Shit. He hadn't wanted to sully Debbie's homey kitchen with this crap. "So let me make it clear. We have transcripts of messages you sent to the USS Hayward, the very same ship that took out most of the Pacific fleet after every ship with survivors was brought in for quarantine in San Diego. If you don't come with us, we'll make sure those messages are in Chandler's in-box by dinnertime." said Clubhouse.

He sighed and pulled out the chair at the head of the table. "Well, you guys do have that on me. I had heard the rumors about San Diego but no one has confirmed it."

"Happened back in August." The younger man said. "PACOM ordered the entire fleet to offload all crew who had not shown any symptoms to quarantine areas in San Diego. Then the ships were towed out into deep anchorage and also quarantined. You remember that instead of turning all their efforts to their domestic emergencies China and Russia were in a nearly anarchist grab to snag resources all over the world back then. Well their CnR Pact couldn't resist the temptation. When they began to circle, PACOM had several subs waiting and he himself was up in some Alaskan fjord. Claims he couldn't let them get the technology and especially the nukes, but he's been heavily criticized since there were still crew on board. Thousands were sacrificed."

"Hundreds at best, most of whom had already been infected or exposed." Vince corrected.

Vince thought back to the first time he had met the Admiral, nearly 45 years past. Between the fact that he was barely 18, homesick, and knew nothing about the country they were fighting he hardly slept on his first carrier crossing. Instead, he sneaked to the gym to work out every night because he figured the more fit he was, the better his chances at survival. He met Dan the night after a SpecOps group was picked up in exfill. The man came in at three in the morning, dropped to the mat, and started doing pushups at such a pace that sweat dripped off and pooled beneath him. He must have done over three hundred before he fell to the mat and laid still.

"Are you OK sir?" Vince tried to hand him a towel. "I don't want to bother you, but we have a policy on the Hancock about cleaning up if you, ah, sweat on the equipment. I know some people don't like it but we need to do it for everyone, you know, to protect us all."

The man had grunted, lifting his face so Vince could see that the drops on the mat weren't sweat, but tears. "You ever do something for the benefit of everyone even though it breaks your heart kid?"

"I'm not sure I understand. It's just a towel sir."

The man sat up and accepted the towel, using a corner to blot his eyes before wiping the mat dry. "There will come a time when it's more than a towel. Just make sure you know in your heart exactly what is right before you do it." A day later the rumor mill had been hopping with the news that the new lieutenant on board had violated orders and refused to raid a village because there was credible evidence that the man they were looking for was somewhere else. Their commander didn't care that they had gotten their man in the end and had handed down a demotion.

"If PACOM ordered that strike, he did it with a clear conscience. You're going to have to come up with something better if you want to turn me."

"Yes, well one of those thousands was Presidente Hidalgo's brother, a fact he has leveraged very well in mobilizing people." Clubhouse arched a brow at Vince. "The MexiCali federation is not only recuperating faster than the United States, they are building an army and communicating with foreign governments. What do you think it means for Michener and the US that China reached out to the MCF first? A new dawn is coming. If you want to play for the winning team, this is your chance. Otherwise we have orders to permanently bench you. We can't have you telling Michener all of Hidalgo's secrets after all."

He stepped behind the kitchen counter. "Sounds like we have a lot to discuss. Anyone need a top up?"

The grunt misinterpreted Vince's words as an acceptance of their deal and held his mug up with a grin. "Yes please. I had no idea Kansas was so fricken cold. Why the heck does any one choose to live here?"

Vince went through the motions of filling the pot with fresh water and dumping it in the reservoir. "You always work in the US?"

"Mostly. I was at EPIC before the Red Flu. Worked both sides of the border."

Vince flipped up the top of the coffee maker and pulled out a fresh filter. He calmly tucked it inside. "You too?" he asked Clubhouse.

"No, I've been with the Company for almost fifteen years." The two men locked eyes as Vince reached into the cupboard. Clubhouse stiffened but made no move to reach for a weapon as Vince pulled down a big tub of coffee. After he began to scoop the grounds they both seemed to relax, sagging into their chairs with the kind of bone deep weariness caused by too many long nights watching targets that Vince had long left behind. Clubhouse even stuck his long legs under the table, crossed at the ankles, as if he'd come over for a neighborly visit.

He yanked open a drawer making sure the sound of silverware jangled, leaving no doubt that he was getting a utensil. And a few seconds later when Vince whipped a knife over the grunt's shoulder he mussed that it was a shame the standards of the CIA had fallen so low.

The grunt made a mangled choking noise as his partner clasped his chest and then fell to the floor, spasming as his heart tried to pump with six inches of steel cleaving his sternum. He was scrambling to his feet before Vince made it around the peninsula but it was no matter. The younger man had only rudimentary training in hand-to-hand. One swift punch to the neck and he was slumped over the chair, gasping for breath. It was easy to grasp him from behind and swiftly break his neck after that.

Heaving from the physical effort Vince slumped into his abandoned chair. He really had let himself go if he was this winded from one minute of action! He eyed the sticky pool of blood collecting on Debbie's multicolored rag rug. He'd have to move the whole dining room set to roll it up and haul it out to the yard. He checked the gathering twilight through the lacy curtains. Better get on with it. Once these guys didn't check in, someone else was sure to come looking.

Twelve hours later he proudly surveyed his work in the rear view mirror as he pulled out of the yard in one of the two pickups that had been stored in the barn. Once it snowed again, no one would even know he'd spend half the night digging a pit to hide the bodies in and then dragging the manure pile forward ten feet to cover it up. He glanced up and down the long straight road that passed in front of the farm. The view was clear for at least five miles in either direction and not a car in sight. He flicked the blinker and headed North.

There were only two reasons he could think that the Hayward had sunk half the Navy and one of them was near impossible in his mind. And if his suspicions about the Admiral's real purpose were true, then he couldn't risk communicating with either the Admiral or Chandler over the compromised satellite network. The two field agents may not have been the best, but someone at the MCF had figured out where to find him and that he would have the Admiral's ear. Hidalgo had always been clever, even as a fresh faced seaman back in the nineties. As soon as they realized he had refused the job offer, someone would be coming for him. Because as Clubhouse had said, they couldn't risk him telling Michener what was so special about the Hayward. But that would also be why the Hayward hadn't come forward and announced their survival to Michener. If China was stirring, Michener needed to know. The only way to verify the intel, without risking the satellite network, would be to meet up with the Hayward himself. He pulled a passport and wallet, both sporting maple leaf designs out of his back pocket and tucked them in the center console. He needed to get to Seattle, and he needed to make sure the MCF wasn't on his tail. As of tonight he was Vince Grondin, former cattle driver from Alberta, headed to Vancouver to live his dream and buy himself a boat.


	20. Chapter 20 - Real Emotions

**Real Emotions, Los Lonely Boys**

Two nights after they discovered Tex was the one sending messages about Michener Kara picked at her dinner, her appetite gone for the second day as she waited for Chandler to drop the proverbial shoe on Tex and Kat. Now that they had multiple field teams Chandler had put them on ship's hours so she always saw the same crowd in the dining area. Tonight was extra busy because the Rio Grand was back and Alisha's crew had been given shore leave just in time for dinner. Even though they were used to limited meal options when out to sea, Kara was beginning to find the mystery meat stew, bread, and cheese that Bacon had made yet again pretty boring. They had people working on sourcing more fruits and vegetables, but even though winter was waning, they didn't have the connections to places like Florida for fresh produce.

"So Captain Alisha, how was running your first command."

Alisha looked up from where she had been ripping her bread into small pieces and sprinkling it over the top of her stew. "Oh come on Commander Green," Alisha stressed the title. "It's hardly a real command. It's more like a glorified ferry service. And I'm still just a lieutenant and will be for a long time."

"Still, I bet you're great." Val winked at Kara. "I know how much you get off on bossing people around." Alisha's cheeks reddened but she didn't argue against it.

"OK, I call TMI. Besides, here comes an impressionable young person so…" Kara nodded toward where Kat and her mother were headed their way.

"Good evening ladies." Debbie slid into the seat beside Kara. Her purse thumped as she set it down on the ground beside her chair.

A small stab of fear sliced through Kara. Debbie used to hide the alcohol she was buying in her purse so Kara wouldn't know. She really, really didn't need any more issues to worry over right now. "Hey Mom. What the heck have you got in there?" She hoped she didn't sound too suspicious.

"Shhhhhh!" Her mother's eyes widened as she leaned in and whispered in Kara's ear. "Keep it down and don't make a big deal or everyone will know and then they'll probably take it away." Shit! Just when she thought she'd gotten her act together. Kat looked totally unconcerned. How could she be so relaxed knowing Debbie was going to be driving the kids to school tomorrow, possibly blitzed out of her mind.

"Show me." She commanded it quietly, but with as much authority as she could muster.

Her mother's blue eyes sparkled. "I got you a treat." She opened the handles of her bag. Tucked inside was something...bright red? Kara wrinkled her brow as she leaned over a little farther to see what it was.

"Oh!" a ping of discomfort hit her in the oblique muscle on her opposite side and she clamped a hand to her abdomen, straightening. "Owww!" Her focus turned inward. She hadn't had that feeling before.

Her mother's easy going expression vanished. From across the table Alisha's eyes shot wide with alarm. "What is it? Is the baby ok?"

Flutter chose that moment to start up a bout of hiccups and Kara patted her stomach above where the rhythmic pinging reassured her that her tiny boy was fine. "It's ok. I guess I just can't stretch that way anymore. Maybe I need to back off a little at yoga or something." Cautiously she turned to the side so that this time when she looked down she could bend without twisting. Her muscles felt fine. When she realized what she was looking at in her mother's bag she burst out laughing. "Strawberries? Where the heck did you get those?"

Her mother explained that she had seen a family hauling a single cardboard box of strawberries to the market this morning along with the usual greens and leftover root vegetables from last year. She and the kids had followed them to their stall and found out that they'd picked them on a farm in Louisiana earlier that week and that was the last box they had left.

Kat jumped in. "She paid a ridiculous price for them but they were well worth it."

Kara's mouth watered when she remembered the way the fresh juicy taste of real fruit would explode in her mouth as she took the first bite. "So the kids were able to get some then?"

Debbie and Kat both nodded. "Yes, we had a little picnic when we walked Halsey after school. But I saved these for you, and my grandson of course." Kara's heart melted a little, or maybe a lot. Her mom really had turned over a new leaf. It was the kind of good feeling she needed after a long day of anxiously wondering why Danny's team hadn't checked in for the second day in a row.

Her Mom smiled at the rest of the table. "Kara, you probably don't remember this but when you were three or four you got caught stealing the strawberries out of the garden. I went out to get some for a pie and most of them were gone. But all three of you kids had berry juice staining your fingers so I lined you up and asked you to tell me who did it. Eric and Sean tried to blame you. And you…" Her mother closed her eyes and shook with laughter. "You cried and asked me not to spank you because you all had used them to lure out the family of rabbits under the woodshed. You said the babies needed good healthy food so they would grow up strong and delicious. I couldn't punish you after that."

Kara had no recollection of the event but the pure joy in her mother's face tugged at her heart. "Thanks Mom." She reached over and patted her hand. "I will eat every one and fatten up my baby."

Her mother dissolved into laughter. "That's what you said about the rabbits too when your father insisted you could not keep them as pets. But of course all three lived to a ripe old spoiled age."

"Is that how we got Sparkles, Gruffy, and Killer? I loved those bunnies."

Her mother nodded. "Yep, goes to show how little control you really have over your kids. My no-rabbits-in-the-house rule lasted for about two days." Kara remembered their three pet rabbits fondly. Her brothers had never seemed to have much interest in them but Kara had proudly shown them at 4-H for years.

She finished her small bowl of stew, only because she felt guilty for the rabbit that had died to provide it, and then she began wrapping her bread and cheese in a napkin to take upstairs. She could have it with her strawberries for a midnight snack.

"I've got some paperwork to finish up. I'll see you guys in the gym tomorrow morning." She rose and began gathering her dishes onto her tray.

"Going already?" Alisha looked up at her questioningly. "I thought we were all going to help you with baby names tonight. You know you need to pick something before Danny gets back or you're going to be stuck with some stuck up Connecticut name."

"What, like Daniel Joshua Green the Third?" Val teased with a grin.

"Yeah, I know." She already had the perfect names picked out, but she wasn't telling anyone until she had a chance to share them with Danny. "But this kid is tiring me out and I gotta go rest up so I can kick your ass at yoga tomorrow." She smirked and sauntered away.

"Yoga's not supposed to be competitive!" Val called after her retreating form.

That night Kara tossed and turned in her bed, unable to get comfortable. It felt like Flutter was tossing and turning too. Finally, she gave up. She'd been warned that the last few months of pregnancy could be pretty rotten but she hoped they weren't going to be spent wide awake all night long. That was when her brain started to wonder how things were going with Danny's team, and Burk's team, and what Kat and Tex would do. Chandler still hadn't revealed his plans for dealing with Tex and the strain of trying to act normal around Kat was eating away at her conscience. Plus, Burk had relayed that evening that his team was in Seattle and no one knew anything about a ship coming in and out of port. And even though Danny had given her a heads up that they might be off the radar for a day or so once they infiltrated the warehouse in Albuquerque, something felt wrong. Her world felt off kilter in a way it hadn't since they were chasing that rouge sub and unsure what each new hour would bring.

She pulled the strawberries out of the fridge and leaned over the small kitchen counter to relieve the pain in her back. Maybe Val was right and she ought to take it easier in yoga. But these days she took the exercise where she could get it. She bit into a strawberry and felt the cool juice run down her chin. Her mom had almost made her cry with her story about the bunnies and she didn't think it was the pregnancy hormones either. She'd never expected to have a baby, and certainly not so young. And yet here she was. She breathed in the smell of strawberries and smiled as Flutter kicked enthusiastically. Letting her breath go in a long slow exhale, and willing her tension to flow out with it, she picked up another fruit. This was what she needed, something else to focus on and clear her head.

Maybe she was holding herself too tight and that was why her back hurt. She had probably let her anxiety over all the uncertainties swirling around her work-life spill over into a physical reaction. She took a third strawberry and shoved the rest back into the fridge. She would go lay down and balance the strawberry on her belly so she could smell it during her yoga breathing. Danny's team would probably call in the morning and say they had the specialty liquid needed to mass produce the cure. Burk wasn't in any obvious danger, and Tex would reveal some good reason for deceiving them all. She started to breath deep again, cringing when a muscle spasm in her back ruined her calm. But she focused on the strawberry and simply tried to let it flow out of her in perfect calm.


	21. Chapter 21 - Shoot Me Straight

**Shoot Me Straight, The Brother's Osborne**

Tex arrived at Chandler's office a little out of breath. Man, he had thought he was fit but three floors without an elevator was still a slog. He was getting too old for this. Once thing was for certain, he was glad he'd quit smoking, even if it had been due to lack of access, rather than choice. He had almost forgotten the taste of fine Turkish tobacco. Almost.

Kara looked up as he panted his way through the door, dark circles under her eyes. "If you're still making it up and down these stairs without getting out of breath these days, I'm going to have to admit I'm getting old." He drawled.

Her answering smile was like pure sunshine. "Ha, between the lack of lung capacity and the back pain I wasn't sure I'd make it either!"

"How much longer until we get to meet this kid and you get to breath easy again?"

"Just six weeks. Six very long weeks." She gave the baby an absent minded pat. He didn't remember Claire doing that with Kathleen but then again, he was away for much of her pregnancy, just like Danny was away now.

Tex leaned in and kissed her cheek drawing an embarrassed flush to her usually composed face. "Well, I for one can't wait to meet him or her." Leaning back he noticed the lines of tension around her mouth and frowned. Commander Green seemed able to handle anything but she wasn't looking her best today. The long ago forgotten guilt of missing most of Claire's pregnancy with Kat sprung to life like a smoldering fire creeping under new kindling. "If you need some help, anytime, you just let me know."

He could have sworn she cringed. He supposed that was only fair. A strong woman like Kara didn't want to be reminded that she wasn't superwoman. He leaned against her desk with a sigh. At least he had offered. "Now, do you know what this meeting is about? Slattery and I usually take coffee at 1100 for a daily update on the President's security situation, and I don't know if I should tell him I'm not going to make it or what."

"Oh, you can go right on in. They're waiting for you." She crossed to the adjoining door and rapped sharply on the wooden panel. "Tex is here sir." She announced. Tex didn't hear what Chandler said in response but it didn't matter because Kara turned and ushered him inside anyway.

CMC Jeter, Chandler, Slattery, and Judge Siskin were sitting at the small conference table. The bright morning light streaming through the windows put Tex at somewhat of a disadvantage as he could hardly see their faces. "Tex." Chandler nodded to him without standing. "Kara, can you shut the outer door to the office and then join us please?"

Kara knew that Chandler was trying to set her up for a more permanent desk job after the baby came as some kind of informational specialist, and she wasn't sure she really wanted the job, especially if it meant sitting in on conversations like the one that was about to happen. A lead weight had settled deep down in the pit of her stomach when Tex showed up this morning and it seemed to be getting heavier. Some part of her had been hoping it was all a mistake, but when he'd glanced nervously toward the outer doors, as if sizing up his chance of escape, she'd known the truth. He was the one. The lead weight became an elephant on her chest. She hated that she had to now consider her friend as a potential threat. She really didn't want to believe Tex would ever hurt any of them but he had better have a good explanation for what he was doing.

As she went to close the doors Tex began to banter with the group. "Gee, If I'd have known the pretty judge was going to be here I might have dressed a little nicer." The very same charm that might have worked on her before had her feeling annoyed now. Sexist remarks were hardly the way to butter up a federal judge. Chandler wasn't having it either. "Sit down Tex."

The CNO launched into an explanation of what they knew. He explained that they had intercepted three series of messages and that they had cracked the code. They knew that several states had banded together with most of Mexico to form the Mexicali Federation or MCF and that the messages were intended for someone in the Pacific. They knew that the messages indicated the President's location. As he spoke, Tex sat calmly nodding in agreement with everything Chandler said. Kara marveled at his apparent serenity. Part of her wanted to rail at him for endangering Danny, Burk, and the President while another part wanted to shout at him to defend himself.

Chandler concluded by saying "We know you were the one that sent the messages Tex. I think it's time you explain to us who you really are and who you are working for."

Tex leaned back in his chair and sighed. "I suppose this is the point where I have to decide if I should tell you all or leave it with my name, rank, and number."

"You do that and I'll get you a one way ticket back to where we found you." Slattery scowled. "But I think it's safe to say that we have considered you an asset and we'd rather not have to do that."

Tex scratched his chin and remained silent for a moment. "Alright, I've been expecting this day to come up eventually and to be honest, I'd just assume come clean with you." Kara gripped the edges of her seat, willing him to be on their side after all.

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, staring down at his dusty boots as he spoke. "Name's Kenneth Justin Nolan, you won't find a rank and serial number for me anymore. I've been off the books since I went to Somalia in '93 but at that point I was a Ranger, Sergeant. Spent some years in that part of the world, guess you could sum it up as I was working for the CIA." He gave a little shrug. The only person who looked surprised was Judge Siskin. The rest of them knew that the national security onion had many layers. Now that he had started, Tex just kept talking. "Moved off to the north for a while. Came home about seventeen years ago thinking I'd had enough, started drawing a pension. But as you know, home life wasn't for me. Shortly after Kat was born I got sucked back in. Been a part of the war on terror in one way or another since the start."

He sat back. "Aannd, now I am here."

"Mmhm." Chander's lips were pressed firmly and his gaze was narrowed. "You're going to have to do better than that Tex. Who did you work for the last seventeen years and why the security job at Gitmo?"

"Come on now Commodore. Do you mean to tell me you thought a regular ol' security guard just showed up with my kind of skills?" The two men met eye to eye. Kara tensed, part of her glad to see Tex sticking up for himself.

"Nope." The word hung in the air between them for a moment until Tom leaned over the desk and scowled at Tex's carefully neutral stare. "But I still want to know what you were doing in Gitmo and what you're doing now releasing the President, and my teams', locations."

Tex slumped back in his chair. "I have to admit I'm a little surprised you cracked my code with only three messages Tom. How do I know that you know enough to find the recipient? Like you said when we met, we're all on the same team here. Maybe I should be asking you who you're working for? And if I'm asking questions, why so many people here? You and I might do better to discuss this in private. You might not want what I have to say to go public."

Chandler had no patience for his stalling. "Jeter and Slattery are helping develop the plan to deal with MCF. Judge Siskin is looking for clues as to the authority the MCF claims. Foster already knows what the message says. She cracked the code."

Kara couldn't take it anymore. She grabbed the paper Slattery was holding, a printout of the messages she and Val had carefully extracted from thousands of lines of computer code, and slapped it on the table.

"Read it yourself. We know what the messages you sent by this method since January say. And we know that recently you've added details about Danny and Burk's teams. What we want to know now is who you sent them to and why! Those guys trusted you Tex. If they are in danger then we have to know." She felt five pairs of eyes widen in surprise at her outburst and blinked her tears back in. "We trusted you. I trusted you."

Tex ducked his head. "I'm sorry Kara." He skimmed the sheet quickly and placed the paper back on the table, slouching in his chair and laying one ankle across a knee. "If you know this than you know about as much as I do." Her frustration blew out of her with his heavy sigh. Were they really going to have to lock up Tex?

Slattery and Chandler exchanged a confused glance. But Jeter took the news in stride. "You mean to tell us you don't know?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm trying to tell you." He tapped his finger on the top of the sheet. "My ex-wife was my handler. We might have been estranged since shortly after Kat was born, but we were a damn good team. The last few years we'd mostly communicated by email and embedded messages."

"Embedded messages?' Judge Siskin's voice was reedy and thin, as if she was struggling to believe what she was hearing.

"Yeah, you put a coded message in a webpage or social media post. To the two people involved it means something but to everyone else it looks like normal stuff. So if she tweeted she wasn't feeling well and had a doctor's appointment after lunch, I'd go to the hospital and await a contact in the afternoon. If she said she had just gotten a good book I'd go to the library. That kind of thing." Judge Siskin nodded but her eyes were wide and she hastily scratched a note in her book. "It's pretty standard practice these days."

Tex swept a hand through his hair and continued. "Yeah, so back in March, I was in Ar Raqqah working on figuring out how ISIL was funding a training camp near there and my ex-wife posted that she was going to put in a garden this year and she sure missed the days when she had a man around to help. Well, we didn't have many codes but I knew that one meant I was supposed to hightail it home so I dropped everything and left. I got as far as Istanbul when I got picked up by Interpol." Eying Judge Siskin he said "That kind of thing happens all the time when you're in deep cover, no big deal, figured they would spend a day talking and then drop me someplace big and anonymous like Rome or Amsterdam. But no, they slap me in cuffs and three very uncomfortable flights later I'm standing in front of a full bird colonel being told I had to be moved and for the short term they would like me to work in Camp 7.

Judge Siskins looked up from where she was furiously taking notes. "At the off site detention facility, at Gitmo, where you met with the Nathan James in October?"

"Yeah, that hellhole. Our Syrian friend Amir, you remember him? Well, I was the one who brought him in, back in November 2013, after working 15 months to get deep enough in his structure to nab him in the first place. They thought he had some intel they needed to identify some of ISIL's funding sources and they didn't think he knew I was the one who'd given him up. Thought they'd bring me in as a prisoner and get me to soften him up a bit. That guy who was guarding the truck that blew when you arrived? That guy got to me before Amir had a chance to do any permanent damage, but I spent most of April in the infirmary recuperating from the second to worse beating I've ever taken. Thought they'd send me home since the gig was up, but then the flu broke out and all hell with it."

"And setting the prisoners free?" Kara could see that Judge Siskin was constructing a kind of timeline down her pad.

"Yeah, we weren't that dumb. Originally it was 14 prisoners, 14 guards. News of the flu leaked out to the Army pretty early. We were hearing rumors that whole battalions were going incommunicado in the Middle East but no one believed it until Cuba closed its borders. The higher ups stocked the warehouse and told us the staff were being isolated. The writing was on the wall. Everyone with any say left and those who didn't rank high enough to die at home stayed. Jokes on them though, huh?"

He slouched back in his chair. Slattery mirrored his motion. "But the prisoners?"

"Ahh, you don't care about that." Tex hedged. Kara held her breath, knowing that with no one left to naysay him, everything rode on what Tex said.

Judge Siskin pushed her glasses up her nose. "Well, if we're going to craft a pardon we might as well be complete. Tell us about the prisoners."

Tex glanced at Jeter and Chandler but they both just waited expectantly. "Well, maybe we were a little stupid. The guards decided we could stay isolated in Camp 7 a long time but we didn't factor in what would happen in the main camp. Once we went three days without contact we figured the main camp had been abandoned like us. We thought we might wait a few weeks and then leave, find some unoccupied housing, live out the rest of our lives on the beach."

He slapped his palm flat on the table. "The men that get put in a place like that, they ain't your ordinary criminals. They know how to organize, how to fight. The main camp had a few hundred prisoners. And of course the guards, who went home and into the town every night got sick first. By then, the prisoners knew what was going on. They overpowered the remaining guards and escaped. But, say what you will about them, those ISIS and Taliban fighters are loyal too. They came to Camp 7 to break out their leadership."

"And this is when you set Amir and the others free?" Asked Slattery, clearly offended by the idea.

"Well, not quite. We ignored the main camp for a while, thought we could wait them out and then we'd go on living in isolation. But then they broke through our outer fence and we knew we had to do something before they infected us too. That's when the remaining guards made the deal with Amir and his buddies. They'd help us maintain zero contact and we'd all share the supplies."

"So what happened? Why'd they break the plan for mutual survival?" Kara tried to imagine that moment when, knowing most of the world was dying, that they needed to turn to their prisoners for help against a threat they'd never imagined. She couldn't fathom the fear that survivors of those dark times must have felt. Her hand absently patted the rise of her belly and it comforted her, knowing hope was just beneath her skin.

"I shot Amir's son. He had been in the main camp. Amir was an asshole but he was an educated and cultured one. The kid, well he was brought in when he was under 18 years old and he'd turned out to be a vicious son of a bitch. Wanted to infect us all before he died as a last act of terrorism. He started promising the sick guys they would get 40 virgins in heaven if they spent their last days infecting stuff with spit, shit, snot, jizz, blood, whatever and throwing it over the fence. He was trying to convince Amir to turn on us. We'd agreed that no one, no matter how important, came in our boundaries. That was how we were going to stay alive, uninfected. Amir wasn't going to turn but that didn't stop junior and he had numbers on his side." He raked a hand over his beard. "I couldn't let it happen. I didn't want to die drowning in my own blood. But all the same, I would have been dead within a week if you guys hadn't shown up."

"I will admit, I had the sense that you were down to the wire when you agreed to come with us so readily." Chandler said.

"I was fixing to try and escape that very night. Figured I'd best head down to the marina, find me a well stocked yacht, and try my hand at fishing for a living."

Kara tried not to squirm in her seat. The baby had chosen this moment to kick her bladder but she desperately wanted to understand Tex's actions so she crossed her legs and willed herself to think of deserts.

Slattery reached for the insulated coffee pot in the middle of the table and eyed Tex as he poured. "So when were you contacted again?"

"When I left y'all in Baltimore. I reached out to my ex and found out they were down in Jackson. My instructions were to rejoin the Nathan James, that she'd contact me in 2 days. When she didn't, I got worried."

Slattery tapped the table with his finger. "You told us your ex was dead just a few weeks ago. How the heck can we trust anything you're saying?"

Tex canted a brow. "Kathleen can probably confirm." After Chandler nodded he continued. "When she didn't contact me and I headed out from Florida I found where they had holed up a while. Not having a way to get new orders, I went looking for Kat. She had her mother's computer. As soon as I got connected I received instructions to use the EM method to keep them appraised of the President and Dr. Scott's locations. I guessed I was still in the game and I started following orders. Same thing we always do."

Chandler ran a hand down his face. "So, you are following orders but you don't know who they come from?"

"Oh come on, you know how this works. I'm not supposed to know where they come from. My job is to execute, plain and simple. They had all the right codes and protocols so I did my job and followed orders."

Kara winced as she remembered saying nearly the same thing to Dr. Scott only a few months ago. But she desperately needed to believe that Tex was still on their side. Especially now when Danny's team was incommunicado and so many of their friends were out in the field, possibly in danger. Someone had to make a decision. "We all know there's nothing plain and simple about you Tex, so why don't you tell us what you think might be going on. Who do you think is tracking the President's, and our, activities?"

"Ah, I knew you'd be the one to see the light." He patted Kara's knee and she couldn't help a small smile in return. Believing in him felt right. "Here's what I think. Based on the time stamps on the messages that I receive, whoever it is has to be in the Pacific somewhere. They have at least one other informant other than me, but that person is back in the Norfolk area. They also have international connections so we would do well to court their favor."

Slattery turned his coffee mug around and around inside the cage of his large hands. "But how do we know they aren't actually with the MCF? They could be dropping enough crumbs to get you to feed them intel on us all the while planning how to move into our organization."

Tex nodded. "I've been asking myself that too. And I've come to two conclusions. First, If they were aligned with the MCF, they would be asking me for more details about the President's security and our defenses, but they haven't. They just want to know where he is and what our activities are in regards to spreading the cure. If they had a person locally they could get the same information they are asking from me without any subterfuge. Secondly, they have recently asked very specific questions about what we know about the MCF's coverage on the west coast. So although they might know more about what is going on, I don't think they are inside the MCF at all."

Judge Siskin, who until this point had been furiously scribbling notes on her timeline leaned forward. "What kind of specific questions? Anything that offers a clue to how the MCF is organized."

"Well they've asked if we can tell if the MCF has done any work to reopen the ports in San Francisco or San Diego. Ah, but I do know something about how they are organized." He nodded to the judge. "But I don't know it from my contact. Cracking into organizations being sort of my specialty and all." They waited for him to go on. "You got a map?"

Chandler stretched one long arm over the back of his chair and snagged a small map from the table behind him. He placed it on the table and they all leaned over it. Since Kara couldn't lean very comfortably she observed the heads around her. If she hadn't known why they were all here the meeting could be mistaken for a mission planning session at this point. The thought helped diffuse some of her anxiety over Tex's revelations, although the muscles in her back still felt locked up tight.

"OK. Well we already know that whoever is leading the MCF is in the El Paso-Ciudad Juarez area. The US closed the border with Mexico very early on but as people fell sick it was almost impossible to maintain quarantine. Michener said there were three safe zones in El Paso but none in Ciudad Juarez so my guess is that rioting broke down the borders and the cities emptied out for a while." He looked over the group. "Now, history tells us that if you want to start a small organization, defy national borders, and achieve control relatively quickly you can do all that with two things. Step one is to take control of a critical resource. In this case, water. Step two is to find people willing to take orders in exchange for access to your critical resource. That's it. Time and again that's been how uprisings get momentum. Sure you need to talk a good game but ultimately, how do dictators come into and maintain power? They get people to buy in on the basis of their perceived needs." Heads nodded.

Judge Siskin sat up gaping in Tex's direction, obvious astonishment that he could offer such an astute socio-political observation apparent from the way she stared. "What? Don't be fooled by the cover on this book. I do have a master's degree in political science from Stanford you know." She flushed but didn't comment.

"Now I figure whoever is doin' this is operating out of Fort Bliss because they would have had to bring it into their organization early on if they had any hope of remaining centered in El Paso. And even more, since they've made the motto of the MCF Todos Por Todos...that's everything for everybody for those of you who don't speak the lingo, my guess is that the leader of the force side of things, who may or may not be the political figurehead as well, was once with GAFE...who's motto is Todos Por Mexico."

Slattery's jaw was clamped firm. Chandler turned a skeptical eye on Tex. "You got all that from the fact they are based out of El Paso?"

He patted his chest in the area of his heart. "This is what I do Commodore."

Kara had been considering his words carefully. "It makes sense. My brother worked out of Fort Bliss. They've got a lot of heavy artillery there. And the water...well there is a huge disparity between El Paso and Ciudad Juarez on that account. El Paso has centralized control of all the water on the US side because they use a desalinization plant that distributes to both Fort Bliss and the municipality, but Ciudad Juarez has heavier water usage owing to its larger population but they have been relying on overpumping the aquifer for years."

Slattery hung his face in his hands. "So we're looking at another Baltimore situation? Tom, we gotta get eyes on this."

"Agreed. But first we need to know more about Tex." Chandler gave Tex an icy stare that brooked no dallying. "You still haven't answered my question. Who is the contact? And how do you know they have another informant?"

"As I said before, I don't know who the contact is. Although based on the kind of palms they were able to grease in my pre-Flu work they are heavy on the brass. My best guess is that they are not in the El Paso area but rather somewhere on the fringes of MCF territory like Colorado or Northern Cali. An organization like the MCF comes into power by taking control of a resource, but expansion into areas where they don't already have control is more difficult. There are two options, recruit people before attempting to move in to soften the resistance, or project their power by aligning with local groups and making it impossible for people to match their strength. My guess is that they used the strength approach initially, capitalizing on the resources of Fort Bliss and the organization of the international drug cartels to rapidly assume control of the areas the cartels already operated in. Now, they are spread far more thin so they are back to giving people something they need in order to get them to come over to their side. The contact, who ever they are, has been warning me about this kind of activity, which is why I say he's an observer on the geographical fringe, not in an established MCF area."

Kara's mind was blown. The way Tex spoke the MCF sounded much more like a fully realized government than the loose network of rebels she had been envisioning. She thought about the way the midwife had admonished her that stress was not good for her blood pressure and therefore not good for the baby. For the last month she'd been stressing about the fact that someone, possibly hundreds of miles away, wanted to know about the President's trip to Chicago. Now she wasn't sure if knowing the truth made it worse or better. "Why didn't you tell us this any sooner?"

"What, just come out and ask nicely if I could report the President's whisky to an unknown operator? Would you have gone for it?"

She acknowledged his point, pursing her lips and shaking her head ruefully. "So what are your current orders from the unknown contact then?"

Tex uncrossed his legs and sat up straight to look her straight in the eye and she was reminded that for all his easy going ways, he was a highly capable field operator. Underneath that charm was a man who could be ruthless and deadly if the task required it. "Well now, this is the part where I remind you all that before I put all my cards on the table, I need something in return."

Slattery slammed his mug onto the tabletop with a resounding thud. "How about we don't shoot you for treason. Is that enough?"

Kara was surprised that it was Judge Siskin who stepped in, rather than Chandler. "Commander Slattery, while I appreciate your frustration, there is by no means enough evidence for any such thing. And we need the information that Mr. Nolan can provide." She set her pad on the table and shifted her glasses to rest on her frosted curls so she could focus on Tex from across the table. "Now, Mr. Nolan. What are you asking for?"

"I am on your side. Believe me. I have given up almost everything for love of country and love of what's right and I'm not going to stop now." Kara recalled how he had mourned losing touch with Kat when they were in the vaccination trial. Knowing him for several months, and knowing what it meant to him to have Kat back, she didn't doubt his sincerity. "I want to turn this on it's head. Stay in contact and continue to supply my contact, but begin to probe for intel we can use on the MCF." Tex set both feet on the floor and turned to look Tom straight in the eye. "I will put myself under your command, as a known double agent of sorts, if that's what it takes."

Judge Siskin and Slattery looked to Chandler expectantly. Kara watched as Tex held Chandler's gaze. "Kara?"

She startled when he said her name. "Yes Sir?"

"You will track all of Tex's communication from here on out. Tex, consider Kara your new handler on our end. Continue as you have with this mystery person but every communication in or out gets reported to Kara." She hadn't been expecting that. She knew Chandler trusted her judgment, but still, she'd expected him to say he wanted her to pass on everything to him or maybe Mike. If anything, this conversation had convinced her that Mike would certainly make a better spymaster. Because when push came to shove, she still believed in Tex.

"I am assuming sir that you want us to collect as much as we can on the MCF's expansion as possible?" She asked Chandler, already running through ideas in her head.

"Yes, we especially want to understand how they are organized, communicating, and what their next target is." Chandler turned to Judge Siskin. "Linda, we'll need to brief the President on this, but before that, I want you to sus out what the constitutional ramifications are. Tex, are you willing to agree to all this?"

Everyone in the room held their breath. "Do you really need to ask me if I want to do everything I can to stop a puppet government from trying to secede with half the country, possibly colluding with a foreign cartel, and keeping nearly half our population from receiving the Doc's cure? I'd hope you know me better than that Commodore." Despite his easy confidence, Kara noticed that Tex picked at the sole of one boot. She'd never seen him fidget before.

After a long pause, during which Tom swung his gaze from Tex, to the window, and then back to Tex with a long sigh, he proclaimed, "You're right, I do know you better than that. But as far as anyone outside this room knows, you are leaving St. Louis in disgrace. I want you on the road tonight. You're going to Texarkana to meet our newest Senator, Roberta Price. That way, if your contact wants info on the President, you won't have it."

Tex brightened visibly at the prospect of continuing to work. "You don't think she's on the up and up?"

Judge Siskin snorted. "She hides in the woodwork until Michener starts publicizing that he's looking to convene a congress in June. Then she says she can't come to St. Louis except for the congress because she's appointed herself as acting Governor of both Texas and Arkansas? She's either lazy or scheming if you ask me. Problem is, her identity does appear to check out so until we have an election, she is coming into the fold."

Tom nodded once. "Go to Texarkana, play the disgruntled employee or whatever to get in her good graces, and figure out where her loyalties really are." Everyone stood as Tom pushed back from his desk. Kara had to wedge her hips under her heavy load to heave out of the chair. The nervous sweat she'd broken into as she listened to Tex's story left her pits damp and muscles limp. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go find something heavy to punch or kick for a few hours until dinner." He left a vacuum in his wake as he strode from the room without looking back.

Tex had the good sense to look relieved but he hung back until only he and Kara were in the room. "Hey KF without the C?"

She didn't know what to say to him. "Yeah?" She turned and saw that he was rubbing the same boot he'd been fidgeting with earlier against the polished wooden floor. His downcast eyes twisted something deep inside her. The overwhelming sense longing tinged with betrayal that lodged in her throat reminded of her of the last time she saw her brother Eric, knowing he was leaving of his own free will. When they had last said goodbye she had felt such a jumble of envy that he was going someplace exotic combined with resentment that he was leaving her to deal with Debbie that she hadn't been able to tell him how much she loved him and worried over his dangerous missions.

"I just want to say-"

She threw herself into his arms. "You don't need to say anything Tex. You and me, we're good."

He squeezed her gently. "You don't know how much that means to me." He stepped back, brushing at one eye. "But I actually wanted to ask you something."

"Anything Tex. I owe you my everything." She had to swipe a tear away herself. She hadn't worried when Tex went into the field before, but this time there was no plan for when he'd come back and that fact turned her blood to sludge. She'd gotten used to the idea of him looking out for her and Flutter.

He shook his head, long hair waving as he did. "People always say that when exactly the opposite is true. You, Danny, this baby, you have been a gift in my life and my best hope is that you learn from my mistakes and do better with your family than I did with mine." She could only nod, afraid the lump in her throat would turn to full body sobs if she said a thing. "I need you to send Kat in to talk with me. I'm going to go tonight, like Chandler said, but once I have a position set up in Price's organization, I'm coming back for Kathleen. And if she doesn't want to go with me, I need to know she's got a safe place here. I know the kid can take care of herself but that doesn't mean she doesn't need people to be there for her, the way I keep failing to be."

Kara hugged him again. "She's going to go with you." A hiccuping sob broke through her resolve not to cry as she realized that in the end, he wouldn't leave alone. "But regardless, if either of you need me, I will always have your back."

"Thanks Kara. Can you send her in here now, so that I can break the news in private?"


	22. Chapter 22 - Black

**Black, Pearl Jam **

Ray's first impression of Seattle as a dark and gloomy place was verified when he got his first famed Seattle coffee around 7 PM on their second day there. He wrinkled his nose against the burnt taste but drank it anyway to ward off the damp sense of foreboding that had been following him for two nights. He'd had cell service for almost 24 hours and still not a peep from Kat. He knew everything in St. Louis was fine according to Commander Foster-Green so she must be angry with him, although about what he had no idea.

Like St. Louis, Seattle had an empty feel but the people who were here seemed to be doing OK. There was food available, even if the choices were few, and some stores were open downtown. But Lake Washington was still crowded with loose sailboats, houseboats, and all sorts of debris. They stood in the wharf area and drank their coffees while Wolf surveyed the port with a pair of binoculars. "Most of these aren't fit for open water but...he pointed toward the end of the pier. That harbor master's boat looks sound."

Burk shook his head. "We can't steal the harbor master's boat!"

Wolf waved a hand absently as he continued scanning the water. "We're still under martial law so it's not stealing. It's commandeering for rightful government use."

Miller rolled his eyes. "I don't care what it is. We aren't swimming and with that bridge out we aren't driving or walking so why are we even arguing this?"

Ray couldn't resist teasing him. "It'll be OK honey. Mom and Dad aren't arguing, they are discussing."

"Call me Honey one more time and Mom and Dad are going to be fishing you out of the drink."

He ignored it. He'd learned a lot from watching Burk the last few weeks and one thing about the man he really admired was the way he never gave into the petty crap guys groused about. He knew the man had hated the Vice President but he never said a word. Just did his job like a professional. He grabbed his field glasses from his own ruck sack and started scanning the water as well. "It's going to be harder to maneuver in this jam with a big boat anyway. What if we use a dingy to get out to the edge and then pick up something bigger?"

Burk looked at Wolf. "Kid's got a point." Ray's shoulders lifted a little. After his mission with Danny a month ago, he'd expected to do something heroic or bad ass on this one. But so far he'd been little more than a navigator and a decoy on a very slow road trip.

"That one, there." Wolf started to lead them down a floating dock toward a small aluminum rowboat at the end.

Miller looked doubtful. "Why this one. I wouldn't take this one fishing in my Gramp's cow pond."

Burk rolled his eyes. "This one is obviously used by someone who knows what they are doing." Wolf jumped in with a hollow thud.

"Obviously?" Ray didn't see what was so obvious about it.

"You two need to work on noticing the details. Look, it has PFDs, extra gas, oars and actual oar locks." He straddled the rear seat to man the outboard motor. "A first aid kit, a few space blankets. Yeah, this one will do." Ray took a second look around the dock. Yep, none of the rest had those features.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Stow your shit and get in." Wolf gave him a nudge.

Twenty minutes later Ray was wishing he'd let Miller have the bow seat where anytime they turned to the port side a cold spray of icy water stung his already frozen cheeks. By the time they had pushed and wedged their way through the boats to the clear water, he was frozen through and his coffee was cold. On top of that, his phone alerted him to the fact that they had left cell service, which reminded him that Kat had not returned his last three calls. Seattle sucked.

It took 3 hours to transfer to the fishing boat Wolf choose at the outer edge of the giant raft. It looked like people had tried to go to sea like in New Orleans but many had died and the tides had pushed loose boats back into the port. Once they had cleared the crowd and Wolf picked the fishing vessel, Burk had set Miller and Ray to cleaning up a little while he and Wolf worked on the navigation in the pilot house. Now Ray was soaked and all he could smell was fish. "Maybe I should have joined the Army." He attempted to joke with Miller but Miller was just as miserable and wouldn't banter with him anymore.

It was pitch black by the time they made the open water of Puget Sound where heavy clouds and fog obscured the stars. The green and red buoys of the navigation channel reminded Ray of the lights on a runway except they weren't in a neat orderly line and some were missing, causing Burk to squint over the charts every few minutes and Wolf to jerk the wheel to periodically get them back on track. As they chopped through the waves and moved farther and farther away from the harbor and into the main current he tightened his grip on the edge of the small galley table. Although after their eyes adjusted they could make out the black outlines of larger ships clogging the main channel, they still had to creep along slowly. He hoped to hell Burk knew what he was doing because Ray had no desire to go for a midnight swim. In his mind the hull got thinner and thinner with each slap of the waves until he could imagine a killer whale just ripping in to have a snack. They smelled like fish after all.

"You been to Kitsap before?" Maybe Miller would distract him.

"Nah, I've only been on the NJ, once to the Congo and once to the Arctic." Miller's voice came out of the darkness somewhere on the other side of the table.

Burk yelled over his shoulder from his position at the helm. "My brother has been based out of here for the last four or five years. So I've been here a few times."

"You have a brother sir? In the Navy?" Miller shouted back.

"Yep."

"Did he go to the academy too?"

Burk nodded. "Yep, he was two years ahead of me. Class of 2006. That's how Foster and I got to be such good friends. We were both griping about family and expectations on our first day and realized we had something in common."

Ray tried to imagine what that would be like, to have everything you did be a repeat of your older sibling. As an only child, it was hard to comprehend. But he'd seen the rivalry between some of the closer kids and figured it could only get stronger the longer they were together. "Well if he's as bad ass as you sir, I'm sure he's survived."

Ray had meant it as a compliment so he didn't understand why Burk's lips pressed together into a frown at his words. Miller leaned over. "If he's as bad ass as Burk, we better be on our toes."

It was another long hour before Wolf finally cut the engine in the midst of a new jumble of boats. Burk stuck his head into the galley "Miller, get those night glasses out and see if you can make out any ships in the docks. But keep your angle low, we don't want a flash to draw their attention."

For a few moments they drifted along. Ray listened to the slap of water against the hull with a new anxiety. What if it wasn't a US ship out here? Their inquiries back in Seattle had been met with skepticism that they could get out here at all, never mind that people might have survived at the Naval yard. But there had also been people who claimed to have seen a ship pass once or twice since the Red Flu. Their hull thunked into a houseboat in their path. "Ray, come up and help us make a path." Burk's curt voice cut into his private worries.

The smell of roting flesh mixed with salty air hit him when he stepped out onto the deck. "Oh that is foul!" Back in Seattle looters had done the work of dumping many of the bodies overboard but out here they had apparently stayed away. At least he was able to see that they were near land now.

Burk hushed him. "Shut up and get to work." He found the pole he'd used when they were making their way out of Seattle and shoved off of the other hull. The other ship barely moved. If they hadn't already wrestled boats for an hour he might not have thought it strange but then he tried to separate two smaller boats to pass between them and found they moved together but would not come apart. If it wasn't for the death smell, he might have climbed aboard to see how they were stuck but a suspicious lump in the bow of the other boat gave him pause. He used his pole to lift the corner of the canvas covering it. The dead eyes of the top body stared back at him darker than the face around it like empty voids. He dropped the canvas and returned to polling them along to the next possible opening. This time he reached out and tried to push one hull away from the other to make space but still, it was a no go.

"Uh, Burk, these boats aren't like the others. They are all tied together and what bodies are on them, they are laid out and covered."

Miller looked up from where he was getting set up to survey the horizon from the rooftop of the small pilot house. "But why would someone tie a bunch of boats full of bodies together out in the middle of the shipping channel?"

Wolf chuckled softly. "Fuck that's brilliant. No one is going through this mess unless they are already cured. It is a security system and quarantine screen in one."

Miller was laid out flat, his heavy boots flopping off the back of the pilot house roof. "Sir, I can see ships over there, several of them!"

"Anything got lights on? Any activity?" Burk reached for a second pair of glasses and stepped up a few rungs on the ladder.

"Yeah, there's two Arleigh Burks. One's dark but the one behind it, I can barely see it but I'm sure there's a guy on watch. I caught a tiny flash."

"Alright keep watching."

Wolf nodded to Ray to follow him down the ladder to the galley. "So what do you want to do boss? If we cut apart these boats they are going to know we're here and this water is way too cold to swim in without gear. If we head to shore we can probably walk in but at some point we're gonna meet guards and a fence."

Ray studied Burk as the other man leaned against the hull. They had all the running lights off so all he could see was an outline against the dark window, but the tension was still there. "People in Seattle were unaware anyone was out here so I'd say they are trying not to draw attention to themselves. They could be infiltrated by the MCF or they could be trying to avoid them. Either way, I don't want to do anything that someone else can listen in on which puts the radio out. Sneaking in has the potential to land us in the brig before we have the chance to figure out if they are legitimate."

They'd already had this debate a few times over the last day. To Ray's way of thinking, if these guys were the real Navy then they had no excuse for not contacting Chandler. People in Seattle were well aware of the new President and the story of the Nathan James had spread ahead of them as well. So it stood to reason that they were some kind of pirate force or worse, from a foreign navy. But Burk was so damned cautious all the time. "I say we do like we did with the boats in Seattle. Why not climb through to the other side and then detach just a single boat, maybe a rowboat. We ought to be able to get to a nearby dock with that, especially as dark as it is tonight."

"No." It stung to have Burk cut his idea down so decisively. "No, if they aren't friendly we'll just be sitting ducks. And even if they are friendly, we don't know how nervous they might be."

"Fuck!" Miller's soft expletive was broken by the sound of him knocking on the roof of the pilot house. "Small crafts coming our way. Five o'clock and seven o'clock."

"Shit." Burk grabbed the bag under the table holding their larger weapons. "Diaz, stay here but be prepared. Wolf, try not to shoot first but if you have to, make it count." He took two guns and headed up the ladder.

Ray accepted a rifle from Wolf, gulping when the big man admonished, "Seriously kid. Stay here." He scowled at the man's back as he headed up. He had been in dicey situations before and what was he here for if not to help? He prepared the gun, resolving to stand at the foot of the ladder, ready to come up at the first sign that he was needed.

The splash of a floodlight nearly blinded him as it cut in from the starboard window but then it focused on the deck above. The window! He pushed back the curtain and peered out. Two boats were currently about 50 yards back the way they had come. Both appeared to be small fishing boats so there was no way to tell if they were friendlies or not. He felt around the window frame until his fingers found the latch and then carefully slid it open. With the spotlight focused above, he doubted they could see him, but he stood to the side anyways.

"Identify yourselves and your purpose." A man spoke over a megaphone from the boat to the west. The other boat continued to silently glide toward them.

Burk shouted back. "We are here to speak to the base commander." The other boats were closing in on them and pretty soon they would be vulnerable to one well thrown grenade or a few good shots. Ray gripped his weapon tighter.

The megaphone guy muttered something unintelligible to his men but Ray did hear the unmistakable sound of several rifles being chambered. Mierdes!. He steeled himself for whatever was to come. He could not die today. He had promised those kids he would be safe. And besides that, Kathleen still refused to take his calls and it just wouldn't be fair if he never got a chance to find out why. Fuck waiting for these guys to rip them to shreds. He was a damn good shot. And so were Wolf and Miller. They could exert some pressure back if it came to it. He nosed his rifle into the corner of the window and aimed for the man standing with the megaphone in the bow of the boat closest to them.

"Identify yourselves." Came the voice over the megaphone again.

Burk sighed. "No. Protocol demands that you tell us who you are."

The megaphone guy lost his patience. "I'm the fucking US Navy you candy-sassed twit. So you either have your guy below deck drop his weapon and comply with my orders or I blow you all to hell."

Shit. Ray yanked the barrel of the gun back in the window. "Diaz, get your ass up here, now!" He heard Burk and Wolf set their weapons on the deck but he was totally confused by the sound of Burk laughing. Jesus he must be going mad with the stress because Burk hardly ever laughed. He stuck his head up the hatch and saw Burk doubling over. "Come on up and meet my candy-sassed twit of a big brother."

"Carl?"

"Yeah, man am I glad it's you. I thought we were going to have to do this the hard way."

The other two boats were close enough now for Ray to see that they were Coast Guard search and rescue craft, not fishing boats as he'd initially assumed. The rigs on the side were designed to attach to other boats for boarding. The men were wearing aquaflage with a combination of Navy and Coast Guard insignia. "It's all clear." The megaphone guy was leaning out over the water to grab the side of their boat. "It's my baby brother."

Still feeling wary, Ray came the rest of the way up the ladder as he counted the men on the other two boats. There were six each. With the grenade launcher and hull mounted machine guns they sported, the four of them would have never stood a chance. He sidled next to Miller. "Shit that was close."

"Yeah, especially because some dumbass below decks was trying to play hero." Miller scowled at him.

The megaphone guy was indeed like an older, slightly more battle worn version of Burk. He jumped onto their bow with a thud that shook the entire boat and the two fell into a bone crushing hug. "How the hell did you know it was me?"

"Candy-sassed? You know it's really candy-assed, right? Mom just said it that way to avoid swearing in front of us."

"No way man. Candy-assed makes no sense. It's candy-sassed. It means like sweet talking dude."

"No it doesn't." Burk held his ground.

Ray caught the lift of Wolf's lips. So he wasn't the only one who thought this was like listening to the twins fight over who had cuter hair. A searchlight from farther in the harbor washed over them. "Listen mates, can we get on with it before Big Momma sweeps in to find out what's taking so long?" Wolf jerked a thumb toward the destroyers at the pier.

"Yeah, get your stuff." The other Burk brother gestured to their crummy fishing boat. "I assume this isn't yours? We'll take you in, get you warmed up, and sort out what you are doing here. What the hell took so long anyway?"

Carleton snorted. "I don't know how much you know about what has been going on around the rest of the world, but we had to fight off the Russians, help the doctor find the cure, escape a sub, pick up a President, and then trek half way across the country before we could come for a visit." He followed his brother onto the other ship like it was nothing to hop aboard the vessel that had guns pointed at them only a few minutes before.

"No, I don't mean all that. Why were you cooling your heels in Seattle for two days? The Admiral was about ready to send someone to pick you up, and he was getting damn cranky about it. He has been trying to keep a low profile out here."

Ray watched as Lieutenant Burk sighed. He glanced back at the three men of his team before answering his brother. "We were coming to find out why someone on your ship has been tracking the President but refusing legitimate communication. To be honest, we weren't sure we'd be welcome."

Something about the way Carleton paused before giving a truthful answer made Ray think he didn't entirely trust his brother's team, which was fine, the feeling was definitely mutual. Still, he followed Wolf and Miller as they gathered their bags and tossed them onto the other boat. In minutes their fishing boat had become one of the many strung up to block the harbor and they were speeding towards shore.


	23. Chapter 23 - Times Like These

Sorry that I have been so slow posting and replying to comments. This summer has been one thing after another (some good and some not so good things) I think life is settling down for a while so I hope to get back to a regular schedule. Only a few chapters to go for this one.

**Times Like These, Foo Fighters**

Carleton paced in the wardroom of the Hayward. Cam had taken the rest of the team to be assigned temporary quarters and promised that Captain Meylan would be along shortly but that was over an hour ago. Figures his brother would forget about him less than an hour after reuniting. It was like the first time he came home from the Academy all over again. The first twenty minutes of waiting had been fine but now the possibility for nefarious deeds began to creep into his mind.

"Should only be a few minutes." Cam headed straight for the coffee station as he swept into the room. "Your team is getting settled and you can bunk with me."

"Thanks man. Those guys deserve a rest. But I really need to report in. Can't you tell me more about what's going on while we wait?"

"Sorry man, we're at emcon and making exceptions is above my pay grade."

"But why haven't you guys at least made contact with Chandler or Michener if you're aware that the government is recovering?"

Cam's lips firmed in a line and shook his head stiffly, saying nothing. Instead, he launched into a inquiry about Carleton's last 9 months. He seemed genuinely happy to discover his brother was OK but as soon as Carleton had filled him in on the visit to Chicago, "I looked for Mama, but there was no sign of anyone." Cameron just hung his head with a heavy sigh.

"I'd assumed she was gone. You're the only one I held out hope for."

"What about Monique and the kids?" He hated to ask but he loved his ex-sister-in-law and his nephews. And he knew his brother had still been deeply in love regardless of Cam's fault in causing the divorce. "Are they here?"

Cam shook his head and sighed. "She's on Oahu. I managed to convince her to take the boys there. They are all fine. She still hates my guts of course. The outbreak hasn't improved my tragic luck with women." Carl held in a snort. Getting caught cheating on your wife with the woman who lived next door could hardly be considered tragic, not in the way what happened with Bivas could. His heart still imploded a little each time he thought of her. God, if he had her he would never even think of cheating. It just wasn't fair.

"You got pictures?"

Cam whipped out a cell phone and flicked to the very first screen. "That was Christmas." The boys were holding the red and green leashes of two identical blue eyed fluffball puppies while Monique scowled, presumably at Cam.

"You got them dogs without asking her, didn't you." Carleton shook his head. So like his brother to act without thinking of the consequences.

"Yeah," Cam sighed heavily. "I did. She's never going to forgive me anyways so what's one more mark against me? Besides, the looks on their faces was totally worth it." Despite his flippant remark, his eyes turned downward.

He had to think of something else, anything else to talk about or he'd breakdown right here in this wardroom. It was so similar to the Nathan James that it made him feel like he was accidentally trying to unlock someone else's car at the mall. "So all of Hawaii is fine? Why haven't they contacted Michener then? Have his broadcasts reached that far?

"You don't know? He doesn't know?"

"Know what?"

Cameron pointed toward the map hanging on the wall beside the table then took the third seat to the right of the head. Well there was a small consolation, thought Carleton, considering he usually sat two seats from Chandler, opposite Commander Green. "Hawaii's governor is holding a referendum about whether to break quarantine or not. There's a huge movement to become an independent country with completely closed borders. All communication off the island has been halted until after the referendum." Stunned, Carleton dropped into the chair across from him. Three weeks ago he'd set out on a mission to collect senators and representatives and now he was in some surreal United States that he barely recognized. Everything about this felt wrong somehow, like he was putting together a puzzle but half the pieces belonged in a different box.

"But surely people with radios could…"

"Punishable with jail time and loss of rations. There have been a few attempts but they get found out. You know, people are mad for a reason. Michener didn't set up any official quarantines on the islands and as soon as ships started running out of food and water guess where they headed? The governor instituted strict quarantines fairly early so all the islands except but Maui ended up with far fewer cases than the continental US. Still, Hawaii hasn't even been sent the cure yet, so Michener's not too popular right now. Quite frankly, they feel forgotten."

He didn't know how to respond. Should he defend Michener when he wasn't overly fond of the President himself? Now he wished he'd asked Wolf to come to the meeting with him. There had been moments when it was awkward to command a man with ten years more experience, but right now he wished he had the support.

"Attention on deck!" The door swung open without warning and he had to set those thoughts aside and rise because four other officers entered the room. He stared in astonishment as a the captain took a position at the right of the head of the table and the woman with him, the XO it seemed, took the seat to the left. The third man to step into the room assumed the head of the table and although he wore aguaflage just like the rest of them, there was no mistaking the stars on his collar, or the resemblance to his son. He was closely followed by a Lieutenant carrying a stack of file folders who took the spot between Cam and the XO. His brother arched one brow at Carleton as if to say, "Do you get it now?"

Carleton saluted immediately and the Admiral motioned to the chairs with a complete lack of ceremony, almost as if he was tired of the formality. "At ease sailors." Before he sat he shuffled around the backside of the table to extend a hand toward Carleton. "Lieutenant Burk, ah Lieutenant Carleton Burk," He gave Cam a quick nod, "I, along with Captain Meylan, Commander Cobb, and my assistant Lieutenant Wendel welcome your team on board the Hayward."

He remembered what he'd told Kara about the man long ago, when they were first heading to the arctic, about the man being a legend. That was true, but it didn't mean Admiral Green was on their side. After all, this was the ship that had been tracking the President's movements and now he'd just learned about the situation in Hawaii. Besides that, the way Danny refused to talk about his father had always made Carleton assume the man must have some significant negative traits despite his lengthy successful career. "Thank you sir. We had no idea you had survived." He offered his most reassuring smile even though his stomach was in knots.

"Well, I have been keeping our survival quiet until we could determine if this presidency and new cure are legitimate. But I believe it is time to break our silence. Do you have a way to get in touch with Captain Chandler and let him know that his Navy just got a little bigger?"

"Yes Sir."

He helped Lieutenant Wendel patch the call into the wardroom conference phone. He could only imagine the chaos this was going to cause. It was only after Wendel worked with quick efficiency to verify the code Burk gave him that it occurred to him that if they weren't who they appeared to be, he could have just given away access to a secure communication satellite. But it was too late to worry about that now as a series of clicks signaled the connections from one system to another. He hoped Chandler or Val accepted the communication rather than Kara. Based on what he knew about Danny's team from their check in last night, she certainly didn't need that kind of stress right now.

The phone picked up. "CNO Chandler's office, Kathleen Nolan speaking."

Wendel acted as the admiral's secretary. "Ms. Nolan this is Lieutenant Wendel on the U.S.S. Hayward. We have made contact with Chandler's team and we need to speak to Chandler immediately."

"His team? Wait, you mean Lieutenant Burk's team? Is this Ray's way of trying to get me to answer the phone because I am not interested in any apology. After how he betrayed my father, we're through." The wrath in her voice shocked Burk.

Admiral Green frowned and spoke under his breath. "Chandler has teenagers running his office?" Then he leaned toward the phone. "Young lady, This is Admiral Dan Green on the U.S.S. Hayward. Put the officer in charge on the phone."

"Oh, ah…" There was a muffled sound as Kat set down the phone. "Commander Green? Commander Green you need to pick up right now. It's Cobra team calling in from a ship called the Hayward?"

"Commander Green? Well, that is a nice surprise." The admiral smiled broadly. "I know Chandler has a reputation for being a good mentor but I didn't expect…"

Kara's strained voice cut off the admiral. "U.S.S. Hayward? This is Commander Foster-Green. Please transmit your hull number and call sign for verification immediately." Meylan rattled off the information while the admiral cocked his head to the side, a puzzled furrow to his brow.

"Very good. Can you confirm the welfare of Lieutenant Burk's team?"

Carleton cleared his throat. "Hello Commander. You can assure Chandler, and Kathleen, that all four of us are fine, including Ray."

"Thank you Carleton. I'm sure she'll be relieved to hear that, eventually." She sounded oddly out of breath. "Is your situation urgent? I'm sorry to say that we need to keep this line clear for Vulture team right now. They were in the middle of a delicate operation in Albuquerque but have not reported in for over 12 hours." She paused for breath.

The phone clunked onto something hard. "Kara! You don't look well. Is it the baby? Maybe you should sit." Kat came on the line. "Hold please."

Kara's voice was muffled. "I'm fine. Just a growing pain. It feels fine when I stand."

Over the line he heard Val clucking her tongue. "You've had growing pains every 17 minutes for two hours. Don't you think we should check in with the midwife?"

Kara's reply was muffled. "It's nothing, we have six weeks to go. I'll call her later when I'm not so worried about Danny's team." Then she must have turned her head toward the phone. "Your instructions are to remain with the Hayward until Chandler contacts you back." He couldn't imagine the stress she must be under with Danny's whereabouts unknown. He was about to ask her if she was sure she was OK when she eliminated the possibility. "Do you copy Cobra?"

"Yes Ma'am. We'll stay here until we hear otherwise." He hoped the displeasure in his voice did not create additional stress for her but something was definitely wrong.

The admiral frowned. "Commander, this is Admiral Green and I need to speak to Chandler immediately. It is a matter of national..." But the line went dead with a click.

Meylan shook his head. "Real professional operation Chandler has going on. Is it always like that Burk?" Wendel leaned down and whispered something in the admiral's ear.

He shook his head, bewildered. "Not at all. Something must have happened to the team in New Mexico for Kara to be that rattled. She's usually unshakable."

The admiral's gaze snapped back to Carleton. "Commander Green's name is Kara?"

Holy shit, he didn't know! "Yes, Kara Foster-Green. She's Danny's wife. They married three months ago. She's the reason we're here. She and a contractor figured out the code Tex Nolan was using to communicate with and then how the messages were being received to pinpoint the location of your ship. That was Tex's daughter who answered the phone."

"Call them back Wendel." The admiral was firm.

Burk whipped his hand over on the receiver. If Kara was as distressed as she had sounded it was not a good time. "With all due respect sir, Commander Green is very impressive under pressure. If she's rattled, then we'd better give them room to work. The operation they are running with Vulture team is very urgent. Much more so than ours. If they succeed, we will be able to manufacture the cure in quantities to send around the world."

"And am I correct in understanding that my son is part of this team in Albuquerque?" The admiral stared Carleton down and he became very aware of the fact that he could be court marshaled for questioning the man.

"Yes, he's leading a team of three other guys. Kara knew who you were, I am sure of it. If she didn't take the call at first they must be in grave danger." The admiral sat back in his chair and Wendel took his hand away from the phone.

Cobb leaned in. "Perhaps we can speak with someone else then? We could be able to offer assistance."

Meylan shook his head. "No, Albuquerque is too far into the damned MCF territory. We could never get there over land with more than a small team without being noticed. And they certainly have the firepower at Bliss to protect themselves against missiles and aircraft. We need someone on the ground."

Wendel and the admiral were whispering again. "Yes, do we have a way to contact him? I know he's not going to like it but we'll have to make him like it." Burk wondered who they were talking about. Meylan rolled his eyes at Cobb when the older man wasn't looking. Hum, so he didn't have much respect for Green. That was interesting considering the man's long and illustrious career.

"I think we can help. Hearing the name Nolan reminded me that sometimes one man can make all the difference." The admiral leaned in. "And hearing the name Foster made me think of just who that man may be."

Burk didn't understand, but just like he did when Chandler started hatching a plan, he figured that Admiral Green had significantly more experience than he did. "I'm listening."


	24. Chapter 24 - Tu Respiracion

**Tu Respiracion, Chayanne**

Tex looked around the square. He was gonna miss St. Louis, that was for sure. But things being what they were, he was lucky that Chandler had given him the task of monitoring Roberta Price instead of throwing him to the wolves. It would be good for Kathleen to get out of St. Louis too. He looked through the car to where she sat behind the wheel waiting for him to shut the hatchback. The $500 dollars she'd insisted on paying the kids for this piece of crap was about $495 too much. But she was right, they couldn't get all the way to Texarkana riding double on a motorcycle, that was for sure. The back of the car was pitifully empty, just her knapsack, his duffel, and a giant photo collage the kids had pasted together for their new place. Guess she'd picked up his habit of traveling light somewhere. He slammed the hatch shut and slapped the roof twice. "All set."

He took his seat on his bike and saluted the Commodore. When Chandler had called him in last week he'd thought his time of reckoning was nigh. Instead he had a new job, find a way into Senator Price's employ and figure out what the woman's story was. The first part had been a piece of cake given his daughter's obsession with horses and the fact that Price had been easy to charm. Three days at her place and he'd had her wrapped around his finger. You'd think a woman her age and with her influence wouldn't fall so easily for flattery, but then again, he had pegged her for a vain woman the minute she flashed her swanky Louboutin shoes in her fancy pants stable. The second part of the job would probably take a bit to unravel, but he was a patient man.

"You ready to head out girly?"

"I was born ready." Her smile didn't reach her eyes. He might not have been there through her childhood but she couldn't fool him. Earlier that evening he'd stopped to say goodbye to Kara and meet the new baby. Kara said Kat spent the three days he was gone ricocheting from ranting furiously about that kid Ray outing Tex to moping about leaving the kids and back again more times than Kara could count. And he knew she'd cried her eyes out after the kids gave her that silly photo poster as a goodbye gift last night.

"Don't worry kiddo. You're going to love Texarkana. It's pretty there. The leaves were almost out on the trees when I left two days ago so I bet by now it is gorgeous. The Senator says there are tons of kids who board at her stables or come in for lessons. I'm sure you'll make new friends. And some of them might even be cute." He waggled his brows the way that used to get her laughing back when she was just a little bitty thing in pigtails.

"Nice try Dad but I'm not interested in boys. I'm still all about the horses. Let's get going so we can get there before dark." Yeah, he could still spot a liar liar pants on fire. After all, Kara had also informed him that Kat was leaving her first love behind to join him in Texas. He wondered who the kid was. Lee was too smart to ruin their cover by following them but that kid Colin was kind of a dope.

With a sigh, because there was no use worrying about it until it happened, he pulled his hat down low and aimed for the highway ramp. She pulled out behind him and they were on their way. Long after St. Louis had faded in the rear view he caught a glimpse of her sobbing along with some song on her radio. "God Claire, how I wish you were here." It was times like these that he longed for his wife more than ever. With a roar of the throttle, he gripped the handlebars and sped along the dusty highway, feeling more alone than he had since the first moment he stepped onto the deck of the Nathan James.


	25. Chapter 25 - Hunger Strike

**Hunger Strike, Temple of the Dog**

"Chief of Navel Operations Office, this is Valerie speaking." Ray gulped. He had expected Kara or Kat to answer the phone and Val's greeting threw him off guard. He glanced at his watch and frowned. Last he knew Kat worked with Kara from noon to six every day. He hoped something wasn't going on with the kids that he hadn't heard about yet. "Goddamn it, I thought I fixed the call dropping problem at the switchboard." Val's muttering brought him out of his stupor.

"Val! Don't hang up. It's Ray, uh Seaman Diaz."

She sighed. "Well this is a surprise. Commanders Green and Chandler are busy at the moment. I don't think I'm authorized to take your report. I guess I can, ah," He heard papers shuffling around the desk. "…take a message? Kara's having her baby but Chandler will be back soon. At least I hope he will." She trailed off into some muttering about special pink message slips.

Burk always called in their reports but he supposed that she might not know that. He was still a little fuzzy on what exactly Val's role was, other than being Alisha's girlfriend. To hear Kat talk about it, Kara was already planning the couple's wedding. But still, if she was in the office every day she could probably help him.

"Actually, this is a social call. I'm trying to-"

"Seriously! You know these secure lines are for urgent business only. What if Green's team tries to call in from the field and gets a busy signal? Or a foreign country reaches out to us for the cure and can't get through, huh?"

"Sorry. I did know that. But it is urgent. I've been trying to get in touch with Kat all day and she's not answering my calls. We're headed out of port and I'll lose the cell reception so I had to try. Is everything all right there?"

"You mean other than no one being available to man the office except me because Kara is busy with the new baby? Yeah, it's just peachy."

"Where's Kat? Doesn't she usually handle the phones?"

"Shit!" She paused. And then she muttered a quiet "Fuck, why do these things always fall on me?" Ray's mind immediately launched into imagining wildly bad scenarios where Kat was hurt or one of the kids was hurt. He flexed his sweaty hand around the phone receiver and tried to calm himself down. "Listen Bud, I don't know how else to say this, but, Kat's gone. I don't know how you couldn't have gotten the message but I guess with everything happening so fast.."

"What?" No one had told him! How could no one have told him? He was sure Kara would have known. "What happened, when how? Was she with the kids? Are they OK?" His voice began to break at the end and he paused to suck in deep breaths. There was a long dead space during which his heart began to collapse in on itself. That was all he got? One month with her?

"Oh for goodness sakes, you kids are so overly dramatic. She's not dead! She's just moved with Tex, for his new assignment. I honestly don't know all the details but whatever happened, it was juicy. Oh, and she was pissed at you kid. Spent over an hour sitting in this chair making a mess of Kara's ink blotter blubbering about you the other day."

"Tex has been reassigned?" He didn't understand. That sounded like the kind of thing Kat would have texted about. He fumbled with his phone to check if he'd missed any messages even though he knew that he hadn't missed a single thing.

"He's been booted actually. Thanks to you we figured out that he was the one sending messages about Michener's whereabouts. I can't believe it was right under our noses all along. The guy isn't even from Texas!"

A shudder rumbled through the ship as they changed course in the current making their way out into Puget Sound, and he was torn between a desire to run away as far as he could from St. Louis and the desire to jump over the rail, find a car, and head right back the way he came to fix it all any way he could. But first he needed to know what had happened. "Thanks to me? I don't understand." How could he have possibly helped with that?

"Yeah, if it wasn't for you telling Burk that Tex spoke Paiute we would have never figured it out. You've saved the day twice in two months. That's a pretty good track record for a newbie."

He ignored her cheeriness. "Where did they go?" His voice was barely a whisper; his throat had closed itself off. Why had he opened his big mouth? Was fitting in with the guys as important as Kat? He'd promised to protect Tex's secrets that night after Miss Kitty's and now he'd carelessly ruined everything. No wonder she wasn't responding to his texts.

"I'm sorry, I'm not at liberty to share that information. Look kid, I have to go. Unless this is official we really do need to free up the line."

He hung up the phone without saying another word. Somehow he made it back to the cabin he had been assigned to share with Miller and two other guys and crawled into his bunk. Later that day when Burk requested the team meet to discuss their next orders he went through the motions of dressing and made it to the wardroom.

"Green's team thinks they have a lead on where the MCF took the vaccine making stuff. The Nathan James is coming back up from South America as fast as they can but there is no guarantee that they will make it in time. Chandler asked the Hayward to get in position to help with exfil in the event that things in the desert get hot. That means we're heading south and once we have them on board we're probably heading to a lab in Hawaii. I know this was supposed to be a short trip, but chances are we're going to be at sea a long time." Burk explained. "Diaz, Chandler wants me to offer you a choice of staying on here or going back to St. Louis to train more. Miller, you can transfer to the Nathan James if you request it. Taylor, he wants you to know you are welcome to stay on but if you decide you need to go, he says there will always be a spot for you. He made it clear that you're all overdue for R&R."

Ray glanced at Miller who chewed the inside of his lip before asking, "What are you going to do sir?"

Burk stared at his boots for a full ten seconds before he answered. "The James has been the best ship I've ever been on. And I know I would continue to learn and grow under Slattery's command. So I managed to convince Cam to request a temporary transfer to Slattery's command."

Miller rocked on his heels. "Well if we are needed at sea, I will stay here."

Taylor nodded. "I do want to get back to 'Straya as soon as I can, but since the Hayward is headed in the direction I need to go, might as well take advantage of the free ride. What about you kid?" He bumped Ray's shoulder "You're not full of your usual questions tonight."

Should he take the chance to go back to St. Louis and maybe work out a way to go see Kathleen in person? He owed Tex an apology if nothing else. But maybe it was for the best that he give her some time to cool off. "If the rest of the team is staying, so am I." He'd already screwed up one good thing. Better not mess with the next best thing he had.

And so we conclude Seek First to Understand. Thanks you for reading! I'll admit, my heart is a little bit broken right now. Kara had the baby early and Danny doesn't even know about it yet; Danny's dad turned out to be the one spying on the President; The country is in shambles; Tex is leaving town in apparent disgrace; and Kat and Ray have split. If you want to see how it all ends tune in for the 7th and final installment of the Seven Habits series entitled Think Win-Win coming an a few months. In the meantime, I will be posting a shorter story about an OC who will have a significant part in Think Win-Win called The Forest and the Trees. Happy reading! -Tess


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